It takes so little time to actually smell the roses

I have been living here for a year and a half, and I seem to resist actually making it my home. I don't decorate my space. I live in it with as little impact as possible. Am I just waiting to move again? Am I scared of making it something "permanent"? I tell myself and others that I don't have the money, or the time, but I do. I could put up pictures, paint it, do something with it. I mean I have a couple of stuffed animals (always watching, always judging), a broken clock and a ton of books, but nothing that screams me.

The more I think about it, it's not just here. I don't seem to try to make a physical impression anywhere. I know that I could move from here, and this house would have nothing that would be left behind that would show I had ever lived here. Or work. Or anywhere.

I suppose the impression that I make on those around me is more important. I'd like to think that if I left this place, or even moved somewhere else I would leave an impression with them. For some reason I have been thinking of friends and family that are not here, that left too early. As if there is ever a right time to go. We spend so much time running around doing things that in the end don't mean anything, when from an early age we learn about those things that make us the happiest. Family and friends. People. Chocolate.

Well, I think that is as depressing as I want to get right now...