BookI am really proud of myself. Despite feeling kind of bad, I managed to completely reorganise the living room and spare bedroom.
It is...starting...maybe...to feel like my own place. After four years of homelessness, I actually have my own place.
Do you ever get that feeling that if you breathe incorrectly, it will all fall apart? Or maybe it is a dream? Or a nasty joke?
Don't mind me. This is happy-yet-stressed crying.
