The Story of a House (Part 4)

My life was a house, and it burned to the ground. It took me a while to be convinced that there was no use just sitting in the ashes, trying to fix what was permanently broken.

So I moved on, with the help of my friends, who are more than friends, but you already knew that. I started to lay the foundation, I got the ground floor all laid out, but thats when you came to my door, I hadn’t known you very long, or at all in fact…I was surprised that a person of your league would even know i exist, much less want to help. But I was just so happy that I wouldn’t have to build this house alone, so I let you in and put you to work right away…bad choice on my part. Our house, we put it up in a week, and I knew I could have done a better job, made it more stable, took my time…but I was just too distracted by how perfect things were going, i thought we were closer than we were, that everything i was doing would seem normal for you and I, problem is, I moved to fast, put too much into our poorly built house…you heard the house falling apart long before I even had a clue, so you were scared and left without telling me. I am holding the whole house on my shoulders, trying to keep it from collapsing, then you have the nerve to tell me that I moved too fast, built too fast, and that you couldn’t live in a place like that, with a person like me. Well, after that I just gave up, let the house crumble ontop of me, sink to the ground, putting me right back into the despair that you helped me leave.

Although my brain tells me I have to get up, dust myself off, and move on from this place, it’s as if my heart is chained to the floor, and my body won’t even respond. At first I called out for help, my friends coming to my rescue searching through debris following the sound of my voice, trying so desperately to help me out of this mess. But lately, my lungs have grown tired and have filled with dust, I can no longer call out to them, but they still now blindly search through the rubble, trying to help me. What’s the point of trying to build again, if the house just falls again and again, time after time. I can’t sustain these houses without a partener to help me, but they’re so hard to come by, especially ones that want to be with me…so my outlook is bleak, and although I will rebuild, I will be alone in this house, trying to keep it from falling ontop of me. Although I know somewhere down the line, in time to come, someone will take my offer, and live in this house with me, I don’t know if I will be able to keep it all from collapsing, I don’t want to have to move again, like I did in feburary, that was hard on everyone, and I just couldn’t do that again. I guess I won’t know until the time comes, but for now, I’ll just lay in what used to be our pile of rubble.

Read Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 for the full Story of a House.

Photo Credit: Unsplash: Mohamed Nohassi

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