I still haven't recovered from my housing meltdown from the last installment, but one thing is for sure, I can no longer live here. Every moment in this house is just filled with anxiety for me. I haven't felt this insecure in a place in years and years. It's a terrible feeling, and one I swore to never feel again.

Every day is a new paranoia. Before the inspection I feared coming home to an eviction notice plastered on my door, but now that it's over, I've shifted my fear to expecting one to come in the mail.

Home. This place is not my home. I really need to stop using that word.

Semantics aside, I can't live here anymore. The knowledge is both sad and annoying. I had a good life here in Pittsburgh. An easy one. I'm sad that it has to end.

On...

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