(no subject)
I miss my house. It was the only place I've ever felt safe. Coming from someone who was born and raised ghetto fabulous, that's a huge statement. I'm almost conditioned to feel suspicious, unsafe, and alert. From day one, I felt like my lil shack of a house was home, I was relaxed and comforted and...It's hard to explain. It wasn't much, my house, but it was filled with laughter, and love, and (yes Brad) plants. It was my fortress.
I never knew until this very night how a place can become a part of you history, your memories...your soul. God, this sounds so corny, but it's written with the most sincere effort to express...something. I think there's something I'm trying to say here...bear with me cuz I didn't gather my thoughts before I sat down like I usually do. Even though material possessions are...well, material, some of them become a part of what makes you you.
Like Brad and flip flops.
Like Ryan and his Shayna Steele cd.
Or Amanda and anime movies.
Say you trash the flip flops and take away the anime movies and steem roll the Shayna Steele cd. All of these things are replaceable, but dammit, don't those flip flops just conform to your feet? And don't you know exactly where that movie is gonna skip? And yes, you can buy another Shayna Steele cd...but it won't be the same one you had ur first kiss to...yanno? And you won't be the same for having lost that thing that you know so intimately, that makes you feel at ease, that thing that puts you in your comfort zone...Just as I am not the same without my house. Some little piece, some essential SOMETHING is missing. I am fundamentally depressed...I don't have a home anymore. I feel rootless and lost. The denial dam has broken.
But I digress...
Oh, and just FYI...I'm not posting this to get 150, 000 poor pity Lena replies...It's just something I had to say. I cried tonight over a house, and I don't think I knew why until I sat down to tell you all why...yanno? I don't know...whatever.
Lena
I never knew until this very night how a place can become a part of you history, your memories...your soul. God, this sounds so corny, but it's written with the most sincere effort to express...something. I think there's something I'm trying to say here...bear with me cuz I didn't gather my thoughts before I sat down like I usually do. Even though material possessions are...well, material, some of them become a part of what makes you you.
Like Brad and flip flops.
Like Ryan and his Shayna Steele cd.
Or Amanda and anime movies.
Say you trash the flip flops and take away the anime movies and steem roll the Shayna Steele cd. All of these things are replaceable, but dammit, don't those flip flops just conform to your feet? And don't you know exactly where that movie is gonna skip? And yes, you can buy another Shayna Steele cd...but it won't be the same one you had ur first kiss to...yanno? And you won't be the same for having lost that thing that you know so intimately, that makes you feel at ease, that thing that puts you in your comfort zone...Just as I am not the same without my house. Some little piece, some essential SOMETHING is missing. I am fundamentally depressed...I don't have a home anymore. I feel rootless and lost. The denial dam has broken.
But I digress...
Oh, and just FYI...I'm not posting this to get 150, 000 poor pity Lena replies...It's just something I had to say. I cried tonight over a house, and I don't think I knew why until I sat down to tell you all why...yanno? I don't know...whatever.
Lena