On The Run

I looked at my room with nostalgia. It was empty but I still couldn't be sure that I had everything with me.

With 2 suitcases, 6 bags and a rucksack, I should've been pretty certain that I had packed my all and as I took myself to the boat to head across to the Isle of Wight, everything that was with me were all my worldly goods.

When I came back from India in year 12, as well as clinging onto the obsession of becoming a Buddhist, I wanted to be able to live the simple life. When we were out there, our packs were our everything. We carried ourselves on our backs. When my 'retro' mp3 player packed up, I found other ways to entertain the desperate need for music in my head. When showers didn't come easy, I found that wet wipes were ample cleanliness and that my hair didn't look so greasy. And when I was stuck for something to do, I could write a diary, take a walk, look at the stars or cook.

I didn't lack anything. All I ever wanted, I had. And I needed no more.

So when I packed up my room, I knew how horribly materialistic I was. I had already sent one of my friends packing with 2 boxes and a great bin bag of stuff. Then I piled other boxes and bags for my other friend and still I had all the things that I was taking with me.

Everything that I had already signed away, I realised that I didn't miss. I could live without my canvas of a Buddhist figure or my docking station. My desk lamp and my full length mirror. There was so much I didn't need and yet when it was all in my room, I couldn't get rid of it! 

So as I trekked to Isle of Wight helped by numerous staff, I was displaced.

This realisation only recently hit me. 

I'm homeless. 

I have taken my worldly goods from place to place without having somewhere to call my own. I have nothing of mine in Dubai with my parents apart from a hula hoop and a pair of skates. I no longer live at uni. Nor do I live with my Nan, who stores the majority of all my other things - like books and folders. I don't live with my aunties or uncles. I don't have a place of my own. 

I live nowhere. I have no home. 

They say that 'Home is where the heart is' but when my heart is split between England, Dubai and fifty thousand dreams to travel around the world, I'm not even sure where my heart resides. There is no place I would rather be, unless with my family and friends. 

In which case, my home is in their hearts. In such a scenario, I need nothing. Nothing in my hand. Nothing on my back (though I ought to keep my clothes for dignity!). I am homeless, with a heart placed in multiple people. So, whilst it seems I have nowhere, in fact, I am everywhere. Carried along with other people and, of course, travelling around house to house throughout the year!

Homelessness, in this sense, in fact isn't scary. It's not frightening or daunting. It makes me feel like I am free. A bit of a loose canon. I don't have any ties to anything. I can move where I want. And that's something quite remarkable! So long as people will have me up in their house, I could have not 1 home but 10,000!  

My home from home

Last night, I took another step closer to solidity; my dad and I accepted my place in the university halls for September. Now that my accommodation has been arranged, I can finally associate my name with the campus as a member of the community.

As daunting as I think moving in will be, particularly leaving on a plane to live in another country away from my parents, I am so glad that I have a place to call mine. I suppose it's like when your parents choose you your name when you're born. It's your defining moment. That word now means something to you. For me, that confirmation has completed my defining moment as I start a new chapter. And I couldn't be happier.

When I first received the notification I couldn't stop smiling. It was the bookshop situation; trying to tell myself that 'It's alright' when I was already past being calmed down for the excitement jangling in my veins.
I couldn't open the email fast enough. It was 10pm. My fingers were shaking. I was desperate to sleep and the thud of a headache I had all day was growing stronger in protest.

"I'll just look and see what it says," I resolved, unable to pry myself away from the addiction of the anticipation.

When I found out that I had been allocated the small halls, my heart began to thump.
No. I thought. I've applied for the wrong place!

I swung the mouse to the internet bar. I typed the entire address and loaded various websites including the search results from Google images.  One of the first comments that came up stated that the small halls were located 2 miles from the campus I would be studying at. I was panicking.
I don't have a car! How am I going to get there? I'll have to leave at 5am just to get to lectures on time!
(It's probably worth noting that I have absolutely no concept of distance or any sense of direction.)

Why is this happening? It was all going so well!
I took to finding consolation on Facebook. There are those moments of anxiety when you're waiting to find out something important on the internet and the page loads so slowly that you find yourself wondering;
Do I really want to know what everyone else is going to say?

I looked on the accommodation group for my allocated halls. I read the reviews.  It seemed as though no one had wanted to be in those halls. They, like me, had just been sent there. But...everyone liked it.

I read, that night, tiredness subsiding, that the halls were more compact and so it was possible and more likely that you would make lasting friends. The community feel was stronger and within easy access of two of the most popular nightclubs, which I read were the main point of being a fresher. The block was also located right by the common, an environment that has now become a top priority for anywhere I stay considering the last 2 years have been spent in a grand sandpit.
The fear began to ebb away. It didn't seem to matter that none of my existing friends hadn't been offered a place to stay there. As far as I was concerned, I was extremely lucky that the university hadn't obeyed my choices. It was as though they already knew the kind of person I was and the choices I made - many of which I wouldn't even trust. Though it was completely different from what I had once wanted, I did still have an ensuite room - the object of all my pursuits and for that I was incredibly thankful.

I really couldn't have asked for more.

So, we only got round to accepting it last night, having been offered it three days ago. But no matter when these things happen, it seems that slowly, and perfectly, everything is falling into place.