Here I am again, back in my own little room. I never thought I’d actually be pleased to be back here, but today I am. I’ve been away all weekend, staying at my boyfriend’s flat.
it’s kind of nice being there, not having to share a shower with 8 other people, not having to watch TV in a kitchen that’s full of other people’s food smells. But… I just can’t feel welcome there. Partly it’s because he’s not really living there. Oh, he sleeps there most nights now, occasionally even watches TV in the living room, but I wouldn’t really call it living there. After all, he’s been there since March and he hasn’t even finished unpacking his stuff yet. The walls are still completely bare… no pictures or posters. It’s like he just happens to have a room there while the rest of the flat belongs to Maik, the guy he lives with. You’d think my boyfriend’s flat would be like a second home to me, but instead it just feels like I shouldn’t be there. I can almost hear the place mocking me. “You don’t belong here. He didn’t want to live with you. No, don’t leave your toothpaste in the bathroom. If you must have some here put it in Jan’s bedroom, don’t try and take over the rest of the flat…”
Pathetic? Yes. Paranoid? Ever so slightly. I never claimed to be perfect though, did I.