Kicked Out of My Apartment

Yeah. You read that right. After two years of staying in the same apartment my family had rented, I got kicked out my landlords last month in the most random fashion. Sounds like a clickbait opening or a joke, but seriously, it’s not.

It all started last year, when my parents signed a contract to renew my rent until 2018. After I was told about the contract signing, I thought “well okay, I know I have a place to live in for the next two years” so I began moving more stuff from my family’s place to the apartment to make it feel more like home. Everything was going great, really. After the initial woes of living alone, I was beginning to feel really at home in the apartment to the point that I accidentally called it “home” while at home.

When I left the apartment for summer break earlier in July, I only brought along a duffel bag filled with some clothes and a backpack of stuff because I was certain I would come back to it when school starts again. Little did I know that my mom would get a phone call from the real estate agent two weeks later, saying that my landlord wanted me out of the apartment by July 31.

At first, I thought it had something to do with me that I got kicked out. Was it the excessive singing in the shower or guitar playing? Was it how the apartment was not clean enough? Did I just seem sketchy or something to them that they thought I should not be there?

Apparently not.

The main cause of me getting kicked out was that my landlords’ marriage was somewhat on the rocks and the apartment became something they fought about so one of them went all crazy and wanted no one to rent the place. What a glorious cause to my eviction: a romantic relationship turned into a fight for property rights.

I immediately went into machine mode at first and called my university friends renting a room in other people’s houses to see if I could find a room to rent too – which was supposed to be quite a crazy quest since the new semester is starting soon and freshmen are on the lookout for rooms too. Thank God, I found a small room at an area a bit far from downtown, but super safe and close to food and friends. Really, it was nothing short of miraculous how I found a place with a nice landlord and how everything fell into place within 7 days.

After the frantic search for a new room ended, everything was a bit settled and I began to feel all the mixed feelings of leaving the place so unexpectedly, especially as I started packing all my stuff into many, many boxes and bags.

It felt stupid to be so attached to a 34-square meter space, but it was the space where many things happened to me. It was the first space I had ever lived in alone and I remember the first couple of days when I hadn’t known anyone in town and was homesick. It was a space of hard work and creativity, a place where a lot of ideas were turned into executions and a lot of work went on to the late nights and early mornings for the sake of achieving what I wanted. It was a space where friendships were forged, where study sessions were done, and where secrets were shared. Most importantly, it was a space of growing up and learn to weather the good and bad of life on my own, through which I learned to be okay with myself and find plenty of comfort in being independent.

But at the same time, I have found some silver linings of getting kicked out so unceremoniously. I would not have to deal with my annoying, loud neighbor’s smoking and bed-creaking noises again. The area I’m moving into is a lot more humble than my apartment’s and has a lot of open space for sunset runs. It’s close to where my close friends live so I could hang out with them more often. And also, after checking with a family friend who knows his ghosts, apparently all those nightmares, hearing voices, moving spoons, and locks clicking on their own were caused by a nice “ghost” (Casper?) and a super evil, haunted movie kind of thing inhabiting the apartment – that’s right, two of ’em – which meant it was good that I got out of there before some weird stuff happens.

When I finally closed the apartment door for the last time with boxes piled up at the back of our SUV, I mentally bid my farewell to it (and whatever the hell is in there) since I could not come back there by regulation even though there’s still the whole refund and financial issues to deal with. I hope that whoever lives next in it finds peace, creativity and focus there because that’s what I found too. And I hope my landlords settle whatever relationship issues they have in whatever way’s best for them.

Goodbye, Mary’s Place #1. And thanks for the memories.

(Cover Image credit: Nathan O’Nions. moving house. Taken on August 7, 2012.


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