Saturday, October 12, 2013
A house is not always your home...
Something strange just happened to me. Something that I have not felt in over a decade.
I walked through the front of "my" house and stopped. I heard the door slam behind me. I felt almost frozen like, as if time had just halted. I looked around the room in front of me, a surge of memories came flooding back, pounding my brain with all their intensity. I gulped for air as the feeling was causing me some sort of anxiety. I closed my eyes, I knew this would all be over if I just closed my eyes and calmed down. "Relax Matthew" I keep saying out loud, like some sort of Buddhist mantra.
My breaths slowed down, I gently opened my eyes. The room was exactly the same as when I had closed them, but I was not. I had realised something through that brief moment of craziness. This was no longer my home. Sure, most of the things, the ornaments and nick knacks belong to me, but the place, the memories, they were no longer mine.
I sat down. It has been just over a year since we broke up, how the time flies. I knew we would not get back together, the damage was done. But for some strange reason a part of me, a rather big part of me thought that things would always be the same. You know, we would always have each other to fall back on, grow old together, like friends, friends that used to be so in love. But it can't. Something has changed and drastically. I am different now, this does not feel like me, my home, my castle. I feel like I am a guest, a guest that maybe over staying his visit somewhat. I need to move on.
Our house, the one that we used to share is now just a distant memory. The journey to find my new home and create new memories begins now...