Okay so most people won’t understand this because I’ll never be able to put my childhood home and what it means to me in words.. But I moved into this place when I was only 2 years old. I moved there on 3/24/04. I grew up here and it saved my life from everything that came my way. When people died, pets died, friends left me. People hurt me, storms hit the area, my mom was treating me terribly, I always had one thing and it was my home. It supported me for as long as I could remember, it kept me safe, it was cosy, happy, and in return I gave it all the love it deserved. When I was feeling anxious I would lay on my bed at night and look out my window into my small little backyard and my rotting shed that was right below my window and I would listen to music and I would feel at peace again. I used to sit on the edge of my beg against the wall and it would be so comfortable. I used to stand in my enclosed doorway and sing and dance into my mirror and pretend I was performing. I could go on and on about the amazing things and memories I have had in that house or even just my room, like my chalkboard door, my fan that my dad spray painted hot pink just for me, the carvings I made in my wall that said “JK” (those are my initials) and “I ❤️ MA” (Massachusetts). I could tell you about my backyard and how there was a little strip of it on the side of my house where I learned to ride my bike, or where I used to “play” soccer with my dog. I could tell you about how cosy my living room was and how I used to come down at 1am and watch “Friends” or “Orange is the New Black” on Netflix. I could tell you about my dining room and all the shared meals and laughs, and the water stain I left on the ceiling because of my long careless showers. I could tell you about how only 3 walls of my kitchen were painted green and one blue, because my mom decided she didn’t like the blue but we never fixed it, and how above the doorway was missing paint that looked like Mario wearing a sombrero, riding Yoshi. One of our walls had huge holes in it because we moved our sink across the room and never bothered to fix it. I could tell you all about how my cats used to lay out on our back porch in the sunlight or how the pantry used to be attached to our kitchen before we closed it off. I could tell you all about the fires we had outside and how you could always see the starts beautifully. I could tell you how the full moon was always visible from the window next to my bed and how it always lit up my room at night. I could tell you how in my computer room I used to spend countless hours on coolmath4kids, watching Good Luck Charlie on a tv that my dad bought in the 90’s. I could tell you all about my closet room which had this platform and a pole connecting it to the closet (idk how to describe it) and I would swing around it when I was little. I could tell you all about my parents room and how I used to run into it and jump into the middle of their bed with my dog. I could tell you about the cat doors we had on our bedroom doors. I could tell you about our stairs and how there was 14 of them and how my friends knew not to step on the first one at the top when we snuck downstairs to get food in the middle of the night because it was squeaky. I could tell you how you could fit exactly 9 of my feet from my closet door to the edge of my bed. I could tell you how we always used to watch thunderstorms from my front porch. I could tell you all about my weird neighbors and how one of them was old and he spend his entire winters outside shoveling his yard and ours. I could tell you about the apartment building next to my house which had about 3 or 4 apartments in it and how they were very “ghetto” and loud and had fires at midnight when I was trying to sleep. I could tell you how I could hear every conversation they had when they were outside and I used to get annoyed, but when I think about it, I wouldn’t have had it any other way and it was music to my ears. I could tell you about my neighbor to the back of my who’s house always smelled like fish. I could tell you about the lady a few houses to the back who’s little dogs were always yapping. I could tell you all about the winter wonderland I used to create with all the snow in my yard. I could tell you about how I had a park across the street that I would always go to and it had swings and a basketball hoop and I used to always go there with my friends. I was at those swings every chance I got. They’re a second home to me. I could tell you about how when we first got my cat Sophie, she was scared of my dog and my other cat so I would stay with her and sit on a chair in my basement. I could tell you all about how I used to run around my downstairs in a circle with my dog because all of the rooms were connected. I could tell you about how every single pet we have had as a family has lived in that house. First it was our 3 cats, Zowie, Kitten, and Mo Mo. And our 1 dog, Guinness. Mo Mo is the only one of them left and he’s about 19. Then we got our current pets, our dog Doodle, our cat Sophie, we got Macklemore (I named him) and Lily as kittens, and then we got Ollie. We were a happy family. My parents and I and our 5 cats and 1 dog. Our house was small, and so were our rooms, my room was about 10X10 I would say, but I adored it. My parents moved there as a temporary home but never left due to money. I learned to love it and I got more attached then you could imagine. They never took care of it so it wasn’t in the “best condition” and they used their mistakes as another reason to move. They had been looking for houses for quite awhile and I knew this and no matter what I said and how much I told them that leaving would destroy me but they didn’t listen. They were looking for homes in the same area and I still live in the same town now.. But it’s awful and I hate my neighborhood. Anyway, on 10/1/15 I was eating dinner with my parents and my boyfriend perfectly happy, when my dad broke the news that we were moving. He said “we’ll have a dishwasher soon” out of nowhere, because the dishwasher we had was broken so I did the dishes by hand. It absolutely destroyed me. I ran upstairs to my room and I was crying uncontrollably, having the worst breakdown imaginable. My parents told my boyfriend to run after me and he held me and tried to make me feel better. My mom told me that we would move in a month. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I only had a month left. And then I was going to be gone.. I felt completely broken, and I still do 8 months later. I had just started 8th grade so I was just starting at a new school and now I don’t even have my house for familiarity. In that last month I had, I tried to get every little bit I could out of. I took many pictures and shed many tears. I had 336 posters of One Direction and I didn’t even start to take them down until the week we moved. The first one I took down was Zayn as a teenager. On 10/31/15 we moved. It was terrible. I carried a razor in my pocket just incase. I watched my childhood become torn apart, every piece of furniture, every inch of sanity I had. But we still had the keys to the house and hadn’t turned it in to masshousing yet. So until January I was still able to come back and visit and each time I did I broke down more and more. Seeing my childhood room empty with nothing but my broken bed frame, my chalkboard door with everything still on it, my huge collage of 1D with 212 pictures on it which I used packing tape to keep together and bring to my new house. Eventually the bed frame was gone and I went for the very last time in January and I saw the outline of all my furniture, where it should have been. I looked out my window into the night sky and everything felt fine but when I looked back everything was gone… Everything felt so wrong. It still does. I shouldn’t have moved. It’s my home and i can’t believe I’m gone. I still go to the swings sometimes though. The Christmas lights are still on my house and the window my parents used to watch me from is still cracked open and I just can’t believe I can’t go right home. I took many pictures of it though. My parents took from me the most important thing in my life and now it’s gone and I’m lost.. The last time I saw it a sign on my front door that said “private property” and it makes me sick that it’s in the hands of someone else. My parents got a letter from masshousing and it basically told them my house isn’t worth saving. That house means the world to me and it said it would cost about $30,000 dollars to fix the damage my parents left but I’d be willing to pay it in a heartbeat if I wasn’t 14 years old, struggling to find enough money to by my makeup.
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