“But I just got here! Please don’t ask me to move,” I cried out loud. The thought of having to pack my stuff and move out, looking for someone to welcome me into their lives was, as you can tell, too much to bear.
“I am sorry, but can you not see that they do not need you anymore?” asked the new tenant.
“Yeah, I can see that,” I agreed. I had seen this coming for a while now. After having moved out so many times, one can begin to see the pattern and predict the outcome well in advance. But, you see, I chose to not see it; to not accept it. However, it was too late for that now. I should decide to leave with whatever little dignity that is left in me because, very soon, they will hate everything about me.
That is how it has always been, now that I think about it. I am welcomed in their lives with a shy first few days/weeks. I am always promised that I will be made to stay forever. Like I said, after having moved in and moved out so many times, I know that I must not get my hopes up by getting too excited with my new hosts. But, when in my place, you would see that it is hard not to. In fact, sometimes I feel that the initial excitement makes up for the mess at the end. Only sometimes, though. Most of the times, however, I absolutely loathe having to pack up.
Pack up. That is what I am doing now, with the new tenant watching over me. This will be his place soon. Very soon. And most likely, he will stay longer than I did. And guess what, it is the same guy who always comes to take my place in the house. I wonder why. In any case, I never bother asking. I mind my own business. I pack up.
But you see, I don’t never learn from my past. Back then, I never knew that I would be shifting so much! I would have 2, sometimes 3 large suitcases. I would carry around a lot of things that I thought I would need in the next place that I stay. What makes it tougher is that I am never allowed to leave anything back at home, while leaving. Slowly, when it got too painful to carry the large suitcases, I began to throw away things as I would walk the streets, looking for someone to take me in. And before I knew it, things that I thought I cared a lot about in my life were lying in the dumpsters, in the sewers... Anywhere but in my bag. Sometimes I think if I should have kept some of them. Maybe that thing that made me feel secure? Or the thing that made me sleep comfortably at night, even when I was alone. But if I had, I would not have been able to move out as quickly as I can now because I have a bad habit of leaving things in the weirdest places in the house. The couch, the closet in the bathroom, under the pillows, over the roof, the floor, well, you get the idea. And once I leave, it is impossible for me to come back to take it back. Sometimes, it remains there for a long time and my owners hate me for that. I think it is rude sometimes, because when I stay with them, they absolutely love the little surprises that I leave for them in the corners of the house. But when they are done with me…
My backpack is packed. I wonder when or where I will next find a shelter above my head. You would not want me, would you? Thought so. Anyway, my owners are not at home. They rarely are nowadays. Not together, anyways. It is time for me to leave. I take a look it one last time. I am sure I would have forgotten things in this place as well. I am sure a time will come when I will stop leaving things behind for I will carry nothing with me. I am at the door. The new guy is there. He smiles to me.
“Goodbye, Love.”
“Goodbye, Loneliness. Good luck with your new home.”
“I am sorry, but can you not see that they do not need you anymore?” asked the new tenant.
“Yeah, I can see that,” I agreed. I had seen this coming for a while now. After having moved out so many times, one can begin to see the pattern and predict the outcome well in advance. But, you see, I chose to not see it; to not accept it. However, it was too late for that now. I should decide to leave with whatever little dignity that is left in me because, very soon, they will hate everything about me.
That is how it has always been, now that I think about it. I am welcomed in their lives with a shy first few days/weeks. I am always promised that I will be made to stay forever. Like I said, after having moved in and moved out so many times, I know that I must not get my hopes up by getting too excited with my new hosts. But, when in my place, you would see that it is hard not to. In fact, sometimes I feel that the initial excitement makes up for the mess at the end. Only sometimes, though. Most of the times, however, I absolutely loathe having to pack up.
Pack up. That is what I am doing now, with the new tenant watching over me. This will be his place soon. Very soon. And most likely, he will stay longer than I did. And guess what, it is the same guy who always comes to take my place in the house. I wonder why. In any case, I never bother asking. I mind my own business. I pack up.
But you see, I don’t never learn from my past. Back then, I never knew that I would be shifting so much! I would have 2, sometimes 3 large suitcases. I would carry around a lot of things that I thought I would need in the next place that I stay. What makes it tougher is that I am never allowed to leave anything back at home, while leaving. Slowly, when it got too painful to carry the large suitcases, I began to throw away things as I would walk the streets, looking for someone to take me in. And before I knew it, things that I thought I cared a lot about in my life were lying in the dumpsters, in the sewers... Anywhere but in my bag. Sometimes I think if I should have kept some of them. Maybe that thing that made me feel secure? Or the thing that made me sleep comfortably at night, even when I was alone. But if I had, I would not have been able to move out as quickly as I can now because I have a bad habit of leaving things in the weirdest places in the house. The couch, the closet in the bathroom, under the pillows, over the roof, the floor, well, you get the idea. And once I leave, it is impossible for me to come back to take it back. Sometimes, it remains there for a long time and my owners hate me for that. I think it is rude sometimes, because when I stay with them, they absolutely love the little surprises that I leave for them in the corners of the house. But when they are done with me…
My backpack is packed. I wonder when or where I will next find a shelter above my head. You would not want me, would you? Thought so. Anyway, my owners are not at home. They rarely are nowadays. Not together, anyways. It is time for me to leave. I take a look it one last time. I am sure I would have forgotten things in this place as well. I am sure a time will come when I will stop leaving things behind for I will carry nothing with me. I am at the door. The new guy is there. He smiles to me.
“Goodbye, Love.”
“Goodbye, Loneliness. Good luck with your new home.”
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