My own refuge

Yesterday I oficially moved into my own flat. My little piece of heaven. Which so far is pretty empty. But it has the essentials. A bed. A sofa. Working wifi. Small dining table. Couple of chairs. Close to work. And best of all? It's all mine, and only mine. And my landlords. But that's not important. Currently, it's mine. And I love it. I feel like I can breathe again.

I lived at my parents house for just over a year. I can't belive it's been that much time. Most of my stuff is still there. Moving a little bit each day now. And it will be home for a long time still. But now this is home too. Which is great. And lovely. And amazing. And so so needed. I need a place where I can fall apart. Where I can be happy. Where I can feel all my emotions out in the open. A place that isn't tainted by disease. I make my parents house seem horrible. It isn't. It's my favourite place in the whole world. But so is this. And it will just get better and better as I keep putting my mark on it.