I remember my first night on a new house.

I was 17 and had just moved into my first house, and it had been years since I’d spent any time outside.

As I was walking through the living room, I noticed a couple of older people on the couch, leaning back and chatting away.

They were talking about something.

“Is this a party?” they said, laughing.

“I want to go,” I said.

They looked at me with bewilderment, but then said something else that made me feel so good.

They started to tell me about the love life they had, their hopes and dreams.

The conversations weren’t about house rules, but about how they wanted to spend their days.

“If we don’t have kids,” one of them said, “we’ll just move into the next house.”

They talked about their families, their friends, their pets.

The young house lover’s life seemed like a pretty normal thing.

There were the parties, the friendships, the nights spent on the porch with friends and family.

There was also a very particular kind of house: the kind where you can’t really see or hear the other people living there, so you have to be on your toes.

The older person seemed to be talking about a particular sort of house that he and his friends lived in.

The house that the young house-loving house-sucking house-spoiling house-lover would love.

And they seemed to agree that it was something to be very careful about.

I had no idea what was going on, so I just kind of walked by, wondering what was all the commotion.

I went back to my own house, got my backpack, and walked back to the couch.

I couldn’t tell what was happening, so instead I just sat down and thought about it for a few minutes.

I sat there and watched them talk about the house and how they were living it.

Then I walked out the door.

When I came back inside, the house was empty.

The couch was empty, and my friends had walked out.

They didn’t know how to open the door or what to do.

I don’t know what to say to them now.

They just kind [sic] disappeared.

I walked back into the living area, and I watched the people leave.

I got up, opened the door, and then I walked inside.

I could hear the kids talking on the other side of the room, and the older people talking.

It was a very quiet house.

There wasn’t much noise.

I thought maybe they were having fun, or maybe they just weren’t paying attention.

Maybe they were just enjoying the conversation.

But after a while, I started feeling a strange sadness.

It seemed like the house wasn’t a happy place anymore.

The adults were making more and more noise, the kids were walking around, and there was no way to tell whether the adults were enjoying the talk.

When they were talking, I didn’t want to listen, so maybe I just wanted to leave.

So I left, and left.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that I finally asked myself, “What did I do wrong?”

It wasn.

I realized that I had a really good sense of how to live a house.

It felt like I was able to see and hear things that weren’t supposed to be there, and also knew what to look out for and what to not do.

There weren’t a lot of house rules.

You could see your neighbors, you could talk to them, and you could hear what they were saying.

But I didn and wouldn’t really follow any rules.

I wanted to live in a house where you could go out and play outside, and that was my goal.

I just felt like that house was kind of a perfect place.

I spent the next few years trying to build the kind of life that I wanted.

And then I decided that it wasn’t possible.

I wasn’t going to make the house my home.

I would have to move out of it.

And so I did.

I moved out of my old house in the middle of August, and by the time I got back, it was cold.

I decided I wanted a new one.

I bought a new car, bought a second apartment, and spent most of the summer in it.

But there were always other people around who had been living there for years, who weren’t just living on the street.

I finally realized that this place was a little bit of a trap.

My house was in the wrong part of town.

It had an old-school feel, but it wasn and wasn’t part of a larger community.

I knew that I needed to leave it.

I started thinking about how I could move out and get a new place to live.

I began to think about all the things I would miss about my old home.

It would have been a little different, but I couldn�t imagine it.

It’s not a new space