I Bought the Home No One Wanted

I found my home when I was a senior in college.

I've always been a dream and one day I was dreaming big on Zillow.
Scrolling late at night, saving listings like they were vision boards. Then I saw it,
exposed brick, concrete pillars, big windows, rough edges. It looked like it had lived a few lives.
I saved it thinking: One day. Maybe.

That house sat on the market for two years. Price kept dropping. No one touched it.
People told me it was a bad idea, too beat up, too weird, too much work. But I saw something else.

I saw a neighborhood full of soul.
I saw a building with history, brick walls that had seen generations.
I saw a space that felt like it could become mine, not just because I liked how it looked,
but because I could feel the life it still had left to give.

So I bought it. I fixed what needed fixing.
But I didn’t try to make it look like a showroom. I tried to make it feel like me.

Walk into my place and it might look a little chaotic. But it makes sense to me.
There’s a Hot Wheels track running down a pipe in my bedroom, because I used torace them down the stairs as a kid.

There are Funko Pops from shows that raised me sitting right next to souvenirs from around the world

There’s a stack of vinyl records stuck to the wall. I haven’t played them in years,
but they scored my college experience.
They’re scratched and dusty but still full of memory.

My walls are covered in stories.
Some come from halfway across the world, others from thrift stores down the street. All of them are mine.

I don’t want a home that looks perfect.
I want one that feels alive.

Because a home shouldn’t be about impressing anyone else.
It should feel like the one place where everything actually makes sense
the past versions of you, the present one, and the weird beautiful future you’re building toward.

A full tour of my Condo can be seen here: https://www.tiktok.com/@deanchicago/video/7334045818577636654