I sneak into my neighbors apartment and sleep in their guest bedroom when they’re out of town.

This is something I’ve never admitted to anyone before, but I feel like I’ve got no one else to turn to with this secret. My mom passed away when I was 8, and my dad’s hospice ended up failing. He ended up committing suicide when I was 10, and I’ve been bouncing from foster home to foster home ever since then. I don’t know how many times I’ve been evicted for talking too much. I used to always be so chatty when I was younger, and I always wanted to make friends. I got older and realized that nobody wanted to be my friend because I was too chatty, so I started to bottle it up and keep it inside. I don’t really have friends, I mean I’ve got acquaintances, but I don’t have people to confide in, so there I am. <br><br>So now, about the topic at hand. Whenever I was bouncing from house to house, I used to sleep out of my bag on the floor most nights. There used to be a bar not too far from my house, so I’d usually always go sleep in the parking lot if I didn’t have anywhere else to go. One night I got drunk, and I decided to test boundaries and see what I could get away with. The bar’s in a neighborhood that’s mostly made up of condos, and there’s a little elevators that lead to all of the condos. <br><br>So I went up to one of the elevators one night, and there just happened to be a set of keys sitting on the ground. I picked them up, and I decided to try my luck with one of the condos. I ended up getting in one of the condos, and it was empty. I walked in and there was no one there. It was a really nice apartment, and I remember sitting on the couch, and I was so happy that I had a place to call home that night. I was drinking heavily at the time, so I don’t really remember too much of it, but I remember that it was a woman who lived there, and there was a guest bedroom. I ended up passing out in that one. <br><br>I woke up the next morning, and the woman was in the kitchen. I was hungover, and she could tell. She told me she had woken up around 3am and saw me passed out, but she didn’t want to call the cops, and she thought I was probably safe enough. She made me something to eat, and I was grateful that she didn’t call the cops on me. She asked me what my story was, and I gave her a brief story of what happened. She told me that as long as I wasn’t breaking anything or stealing from her, I could sleep there whenever she was out of town. I didn’t think much of it, but she told me to hold onto the keys I found, and to make sure that I lock the door whenever I’m there. <br><br>Whenever she goes out of town, she’ll text me and let me know. I’ll go there, and I’ll sleep in that guest bedroom whenever she’s gone. She even lets me keep some of my stuff in the closet, as long as I don’t tell anyone else, she doesn’t want someone breaking in and stealing from her. I’m grateful, but I know it’s wrong. She doesn’t know my name, and I don’t know hers. Whenever she’s in town, I’ll go to the bar, and she’ll come down and give me $20 and tell me to take care of myself. I don’t know what she works as, but she seems like she does well for herself. She’ll sometimes come down with a suit on, and we’ll sit there and talk for a bit. She’s a very kind, and I feel bad knowing that I broke into her house. I hope she never finds out, I don’t want to lose the little amount of friendship that we have.