The Story of a House

My life was a house, it wasn’t perfect, very good looking, big or even very stable, but you wanted it anyway. I opened my door to you and you became part of this house, you made it better, fixed the holes in the walls and put a new coat of paint on the outside, you made it special. Then came the day you were dragged out, it was never the same without you, the paint peeled off, the walls began to crack, I was waiting and waiting for the whole thing to come crashing down. Then came a knock on my door and it was you, you said you couldn’t come in and that you were just visiting, but I was just happy you were back, but I tried and tried to get you to come back in, and it only made you leave again. That was the day our little house burned to the ground. I sat there in the ashes wondering what I had done to cause this catastrophe, and no matter how much it burned I couldn’t leave the ashes. When the fires burned out and the smoke cleared nothing was left but my safe, in which were the pictures of us and our memories. I opened it to find a pile of ashes as if they never happened at all. I could never forget the happiest times of my life so I took the ashes with me. I was told that it would be better to leave, start again with a new house, so I began to walk away. But it was as if the weight of the entire house was on my shoulders and every step was harder and more painful than the last, I wanted to go back, but I was reminded that there was nothing to go back to. But I’ve grown tired and I’ve fallen, only steps away from the ashes of my old house, I don’t have the will to get up and continue, I see you in the distance and I hope that you can find a better place to call your home, one that makes you happy. I will never forget you

My life was a house, it burned to the ground, I have the ashes to prove it…right here in my pocket with the memories of us. I’ve been sitting where I fell, steps away from the ruins of the happiest place I’ve ever been, you made it that way. I always did everything I could to make that house better for you, but what the hell does that even matter anymore. I wouldn’t give up hope that you would come back, hammer in hand ready to start anew, but even hope fades when you cut the ties between you and I. So I sat there, alone with the ashes in my hands, the tears rolling down my face turning my memories into black mud slipping through my fingers, but lucky for me, friends that are more than friends, family really. Although they never lived in my house they are loyal guests who are welcomed with an open door. They helped me to my feet, pointed me in the right direction, helped me take those difficult steps, but I still dragged my feet, because I couldn’t give up on our house, on my dreams, on you. But now I’m not so certain, I’ve lost sight of what I really want, what is happiness anyways but lack of sadness. I’ve laid the foundations of a new house, this one won’t be nearly as grand as the first but, it’s impossible to recreate pure beauty. Now, this doesn’t mean I gave up on you, on us, it just means I need a change of scenery I guess, I never liked the look of charred trees and blackened ground. The one thing that will never change though is my memories of us, our perfection, your smile. I’m not yet ready to put my flyers out yet, because to move into my house you have to be special, and I don’t know how they would be able to compare to you, but I’m going to wait for the next best thing. I just hope that once again our paths will cross, sometime when we can survive the bumps and out the fires before they become an inferno. “Nothing very good, or very bad, last very long”

My life was a house, that burned to the ground, yeah it phased me but did it stop me, hell no. I had my friends that are more like family to help me along this twisted journey. So I had laid the foundation for a new house, a better house, one that would be appreciated, and guess what, a knock came at my door, I knew it wasn’t going to be you, but it turned out to be better, this wonderful girl, hammer in hand, ready to help me build my new house, to become a part of it ever so slowly. I would rather have an amazing house take a year to make, and be structurally sound and sturdy enough to last even the roughest shit storms. The alternative was going back to what I had before, but with someone new, but I believe in new beginnings, and this was the best beginning I’ve ever seen, and I really hope that once this house is finished that this new, amazing girl will still want to be a part of it ๐Ÿ™‚ here’s to many more good times to come

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 that’s 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 me, 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 on top 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 partner 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 on top 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 February, that was hard for 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.

15 thoughts on “The Story of a House

  1. Pingback: The Story of a House โ€“ The Bipolar Writer – International Badass Activists

  2. This is by far one of the best posts I’ve ever read. I understand it too well, though for me it was the same person building and destroying the house over and over… I guess I should have learned.

    Amazing writing โค

    Liked by 1 person

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