I miss how my bed felt warm and welcoming at the end of a long day or how the sound of the television in the background didn’t feel like a nauseating drone that gives me a metaphorical migraine. I miss reading and being transported into the narrative instead of circling over and over the sentences before realising I’m in a loop, not going anywhere. I miss laughing at foolish follies and the carefree feeling of not taking anything too seriously. I miss how I could sleep without tossing and turning like the thoughts inside my head. But most of all I miss how my mind was a safer place than it is now, home to rumination and bleakness after the previous tenants resilience and will packed up their things and left after staying so long. Something about the neighbours drove them out.