I repeat this at least five times a day. I can’t wait to move! I can’t wait to move! I can’t wait to move!
I hate this apartment. I absolutely detest it. I am embarrassed to have people over because it always looks so dirty and unfinished. I worry about cockroaches. I freak out about mice. I loathe having a roommate. I can’t deal with all of the animals. I can list off at least a dozen more reasons why I need out of this dump and yet, I have to wait until September to get out of my lease.
I feel like this place was a giant step backwards. I am almost thirty years old, and Chase and I both have decent jobs. Yet my living conditions today are worse than they were when I was in university. I lived in nicer apartments when my rent was less than $200 a month. Now I’m paying more money than I ever did, and I have nothing to show for it.
Sometimes, I can deal. If I am getting out a lot, I can overlook how much I hate this apartment. But on weekends like this, when I spend every waking minute in this hell hole, it gets to be too much.
It doesn’t feel like a home here. In fact, it just feels like a gigantic litter box with bars over the windows. I feel claustrophobic and trapped and I am about to lose my shit right.now!