• tantan 6w

    Abandoned Home

    My mother, a very intelligent woman, once said something very interesting. She told me not to make a home in any person. For when the person leaves, not only you will lose your beloved but also your home and nothing hurt more than being an abandoned home. Dust of insecurities ruins everything and cobwebs of doubts strangle you every day. There is a junk of broken heart lying around and walls are painted in memories and no matter how much you try to take them off, they stay there like a stubborn piece of gum you stuck under your desk in school. I wasn’t thrilled to hear the words; poets had made me believe the person you love is your home after all. But years have passed by, and I now understand why making someone else your home is not okay. Homes break and when they do, they leave you deserted. Having nowhere to go back to is the pain that crushes the liveliest of the souls. It’s heartbreaking. Over the years, I have had so many homes and has gotten myself found alone in them. The pungent smell of heartbreak still lingers there and sometimes tightens your chest making it difficult for me to breathe. Many heartbreaks later I have decided the only home I need is me. Only home I ever will create is me. It’s not as easy as writing “self-love” on Instagram. It’s a process of healing and breaking down and starting from scratch again but I am taking the leap. I am busy painting my walls yellow and putting up the photo frames of rainbows on them. On one of better days, I might go back to the houses I abandoned or was abandoned from and bring the parts of me that lie on the chairs and tables and put them up as a memoir of my spirit and invite my mother over and I exactly know what she’d say, “It smells like a victory, beta” and I will reply, “ It feels like one.”