Home
The last time I came home to an empty house like this was just over five months ago, although it seems longer. That time, I was lonelier than I could have ever imagined, although not alone. This time, I’m glad this place is empty, because it means the toxins are gone. Now I can strip it down and wipe it clean. This will never be home again, though I will live here for a while longer. Home is a place filled with love, and I didn’t have that, and won’t have that here again, because that idea ended about six months ago. This will be my lair, but not my home. I burned my home down, and now a new one must be built. The parts are there. It just needs time and care. Broken? A little, but still good.
