I've Lost Myself

In the course of this move, I've managed to lose almost everything I loved.

My bedroom, (ha ha ha) is no bedroom, as it has no bed, and all my books (well almost all of them) and some of my CDs are piled on the floor. (With nowhere to go) I haven't had much of a chance in the 4-ish weeks that we've lived there to even try to organize and declutter my space.

Nope. I have no place to call my own in this house.

None.

I'm frustrated.

I'm angry.

I want to go home.

At least on 11th ST, I had a place to call my own.

Here, I have nothing, except bills, and I truly believe that no one cares.

I can't get to my computer, because there's no place for it. Where there is space for it...there's no three pronged outlets.

I know I'm whining, but dammit, I thought moving would make things easier or better for me.

Frankly, I think it has done the opposite and it is making me very very crabby.