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I struggle with the fact that I don’t have a place that is mine. Ever since I had a job where I lived where I worked, I’ve been aware of how fleeting it is to have shelter. Whenever I lived in apartments, I had this feeling like I could get thrown out at any time. All I needed to do was miss a paycheck.
Thinking about this, I realize that I never lived in a place that was my own. I’ve always had homelessness at some point in my mind. It made sense to me because I never felt like I belonged anywhere. Or, I should say it makes sense to me because I still feel that way.
What has living like this done to me? Every once in a while I remind myself that I do not belong where I live. At any moment I can be gone, and it would make more sense than staying.
Maybe this is one of my deep-seated problems. Unlike the things that I grow, I’ve never been able to feel rooted in a place. There is no soil that is mine.
I wonder if that will ever change.
Amusing Nonsense 
Not likely as you are generating your own misery. Even if you owned your own home, failure to pay on a mortgage can get you thrown out. Even if you own it outright, failure to pay taxes can cost you your home. Hey, what about homesteading out in the boonies? Heck Mother Nature can destroy your homestead (forest fire, flood, drought, etc.).
There is no such security that you seek. Seeking it creates the misery you feel. How about just being grateful you have a roof over your head now and the prudence to save up some money, so that if you have to leave or lose your job, you have moving expenses and some money to tide you over. That’s kind of the best you and I can hope for.
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Excellent advice.
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