I Made It

I have a home, for the first time in over a year I have a place where I don't have to live in fear of stepping out of line, pissing off my co-habitants and finding my ass out on the street. Best part of it all? I get to eat. Every day. Multiple times. Bless you, Dekus the Dad, for putting up with me and my shit and feeding me and my dirty nicotine and caffiene addictions.

I'm glad it's all finally happened. If I'm honest, Belfast was like a prison for me, I felt stifled and unable to progress. Homelessness gets you into a bit of a Catch 22 type situation; can't get a job until you have a home, can't have a home until you get a job. But it's all over now, I'm free to grow and expand my horizons, I can finally see possibilities for myself. I'm stretching out my cramping soul and it feels damn good.

Living here is still pretty surreal, I must say, I can't quite grasp that I'm here and this is my forever home now. even after ten days here I occasionally find myself thinking about "When I go home". Stop it, Brain, you are home, in a place where people love you and will look after you.

So what have I done since I got here? Not much, not much at all. Three days spent with friends and seven days spent arsing around, taking advantage of all my new home has to offer: TV, food, internet, a cuddly dog and nostalgia by the bucketload. Now I just have to go about getting my finances in order, paying my gigantic phone bill and registering with a doctor.

It all sounds so simple when you just list it like that.

Cheerio Belfast

Today I found out that my ID has been posted out and will arrive within the next week. I was surprised that rather than relieved I felt a surge of sadness at leaving this place. I wanted to say goodbye to the place that has been home to me for the last seven years. It was this city and its people that helped to shape me into the confused little person I am today.

I took the scenic route, through culture filled alleys crammed with quirky bars and whimsical street art, to my favourite spot in Belfast; it's a wall set off the main road outside a gay bar and just round the corner from the Circus School. I love it because the surrounding area is full of memories for me. From here I can see the Albert Clock and the Royal Mail building, which to many people would seem like strange markers but to me they are symbolic buildings around which many of my teenage years revolved. I spent many a drunken afternoon running through the fountains by the Albert Clock and the immense, mirrored facade of the Royal Mail was on the receiving end of many long, admiring gazes while I was high as a kite.

I walked through subways that made me heady with memories, flashbacks from a booze-filled, carefree time. It made me think of happy times with friends I have loved and who I have grown away from. Moving from here is going to be hard, some of the happiest days of my life have been spent wandering through this city, but I now realise that there is very little left here for me. Today I wandered these streets alone. thete

Douteux

To move or not to move, that is the question.

Originally the answer was pretty easy, Chester was the obvious choice. Life would be easier living with my dad, I'd have a whole lot less to worry about. Plus there was nothing really for me in Belfast, I was homeless, unhappy and had an almost non-existant social life.

But now things are far more complicated. I'm happier here now. Friends have sprung out of the woodwork, some who I thought hated me and others who have fantastic qualities that I was previously blind to. There's still the not-so-little issue of homelessness, but I'm sure I can work something out.

I think right now I'm just waiting for the decider, for something to just come along and choose for me. It's not like there's a wrong decision, by not going to Chester I won't be missing out on some major job opportunity, I can always just go some other time if things don't work out in Belfast. Nothing's set in stone.

Alas, even if I knew I wanted to move to Chester I would have to wait the three or four weeks that it's going to take for my photographic ID to get here. If anything's going to happen to make up my mind, it has quite some time in which to do so, no rush. Chillax.

A whole lot can happen in three weeks.