You are a stranger and I am a house. You stepped inside and immediately saw the wrong things. The easiest way to go about this, you said, is to right them yourself. And so you dusted and swept the clutter. You moved the furniture, got rid of the old ones and bought slicker models. You mopped the wooden floors and carpeted the whole acre. The creepy vines hugging the walls outside were hand plucked by you. It took a good week before you were ready to settle in.

At first it was delightful, seeing the house organized and flawless. Like the sun’s rays are different in your eyes – glistening, stunning, ever so beautiful. It made you feel accomplished, like it was your lifelong dream to rebuild an abandoned home and make it your own. But there was a raging feeling inside the house. It was the same house with its roots buried to the ground yet why did it feel so different?

It felt wrong, uncomfortable, confusing. The house lost its history together with its gathering dust and clutter. Its reconstruction felt fake. Its inside seemed unreal. Its decoration looked too little but felt too much. The paint brushed over the cracks but your can still see them embedded on the walls.

And so the house decided to kick you out. It remained dusty and disorganized and abandoned. The lines were cut and the empty halls were dark and well, empty. It was a lot of things before you but it was never lifeless. Most importantly the house got its history back. That’s all that matters.

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2 thoughts on “The House Is Not Your Home

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