A House but Not A Home

Weekly Diary Entry

Things could have been so different…

There was so much beauty—the kind of beauty that can only be grasped in hindsight—but I couldn’t appreciate it back then because of all the ugliness and loathsomeness inside; I couldn’t truly take it in because of you, you ruined it for me.

How different everything could have been; how much beauty could I have felt if you hadn’t made my life miserable; how much beauty have I missed because of you? I feel both empty and pained; it finds itself being unrecognizable and far too familiar; a constant vacillation between feeling too much and not at all.

And now, I’ll never be able to kiss it goodbye, because you had to take that away from me too.

This story is part of a collection of poems, short stories and introspective reflections of my creation, called “Grimoire of a Weirdo”.