This is not my home, this is a place where my stuff is located, a place where I sleep, a place where I eat, but THIS is not my home!
It's not about whether or not all my belongings are put in place, or how I decorate. It's where I am not that makes this wrong. My heart is elsewhere, my dreams are destroyed, my hopes are gone, my future is now an empty place in the space around me.
In this life I have succeeded at very little and the one thing I seem to have succeed at the best is being alone. No matter how hard I try, no matter how much I love, no matter how much I give, no matter who I trust, I always end up... alone. I am broken inside and out. I'm tired and I am alone.
Yes I'll make it through another day, I'll live through all of the heartache and pain again. But when will it end? I asked a million times over why did I survive my surgery, to only have lived the last seven years fighting to hold on to what was not meant to be. I got my "two minutes" it was short and sweet and is now gone, never to be again.
I want to dip my heart in hot steel and seal it up forever, never to give... never to receive... never to hurt so deeply again.
My home... was with him, my home was there, in the house we bought to spend the rest of our lives in, the house where I planned our future days. Not this apartment that is holding my stuff, where the silence is deafening and the rooms are empty space no matter how much stuff I put in them. I can talk to walls, they may even listen... but they do not laugh at my follies nor do they show enthusiasm in things I show or do. They are just walls, holding up the space between the floor and the ceiling. So though they may protect me, they do not comfort me.
I do not want to be here... but this is where I am.... and I guess it is where I am meant to be.... alone.
