I have finally moved into my own place. Well, it’s not my own because I live with a flatmate* I don’t know at all. We weren’t friends before this. We kind of are now.

I want to stay here. I want to make this home. I’ve moved around a lot and I don’t like it. I know some friends now who have moved around a lot growing up and in their adult life — and want to keep doing it. I guess it’s a great example in different people coming out different from the same (or, similar) life experience.

That air of loneliness has started to strike now that I am finally finding a bit of free time on my hands in this new flat. The answer is to do things, be with people, and so on. Not give in to thinking — overthinking, specifically, of course. Thinking isn’t so bad in itself.

Olivia is moving away soon, very soon. In a way, I will be alone in the city after this. She became home. My default. My go-to. And friends in the city makes the city a home, yes? We’ve been here on this idea before.
* She (my flatmate), in fact, might move out sometime around the 6-10 month mark.

Can I get some consistency please? I don’t deal well with change…

I have a few people I’ve been talking to as friends, already, but…

I guess we’ll get there. Got to put more effort into new people again. Eugh. The thought of dating apps. The thought of “How was your day?” The thought of coming out as queer and autistic again…