A PLACE WHERE YOU COULD BE HAPPY

Someone told me no long time ago, that I became the kind of person that can't be happy anywhere.
I think I've been like that for a long time because somewhere inside me I dream of a place I could call "Home". And this place is clearly printed in my mind.
I sometimes imagine what would my house look like and how I would arrange the furniture. But I don't know where would that be...

The truth is I've been like that since I left the place that was my home.

My parents bought a house in a street filled with flowers, and my childhood was spent there: in this house, in this street. In the park next to it, and in the military camp where we used to sneak-in to get blackberries that we would bring back home, and my mum would make jam with it...
My parents divorced, I left the house at 16 years old.
The house got sold and all my childhood disappeared with it.
Since then I moved a lot and never managed to feel home anywhere. I collected post-cards and posters that I would stick on the walls of my rooms. I would collect any little things I would find or I got offered thinking that one day, these things will find a place in MY home. The one of my dream, the one I would create.

Some of you would think I'm a materialist person but that not how I see it. Every little things, drawings, sculptures, images would be attached in my mind to a sentimental affection toward the person who would have given it to me. Or to the souvenir that it would remind me of.

But then I grew older, I moved further, and everytime, I collected things that I had to give up in the end, to go somewhere again. So I became less sentimental and now, every time I go home (to my parents home to be exact) I go through my fetishes like an anthropologist and try to get realistic over their real value. Sometimes, with regrets, I get rid of one of them. Do you want to know what it feels like to me?
It's like tearing apart a picture of someone you used to love, It's painful but necessary.

Anyway it's true, I can't be happy anywhere. I can't keep a job and I get bored very quickly. I can't stand anyone telling me who I am or what I should do. And when I arrive at the point where things become habits, I start to feel trapped and I run away.
I don't know why I act that way. But maybe it's simply because I haven't find my home yet.
Maybe I will never feel at home again. Maybe I'll keep running away all my life.
But I'm a dreamer! And I hope I can find a place where I can be happy and  that I will call HOME.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yoAPw-eJuYo