This weekend, I realized every place I live in has become dusty just cos I move around so much. My bed at home gathers dust when I'm away, my corner in Manila becomes a dustbin when I leave cos it's the last place anyone wants to sleep in so I usually have to take that spot, and I'm the only one who uses my the extra room in my Grandma's house whenever my Dad's out of town and I won't have anyone with me at the house, so whenever I'm not there the room goes stale. I move an average of six times a month. Brian couldn't stop sneezing everywhere the entire weekend.
I guess that says a lot about how I treat all these places I stay at. They've all become temporary to me for quite some time now so I find no attachment towards them, not even my own house. I never stay long enough to appreciate their comforts. It's like I can leave anytime and it would be alright. The only stuff I give importance to now are the clothes I lug around and the important things in my handbag. And some books.
No flash realization or lightbulb~ here. It just makes me a little sad.
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