Maybe the life I’ve build, is the one I deserve. But is it really fair for someone to only be able to build a Horror-Mansion, while others get a Dreamhouse done.? They call it ‘having the tools to deal with setbacks’. I’ve never aquired anything more than a pair of old rusty scissors, to cut the caution tape, that I’ve wrapped around my Mansion, for normal folks to stay away.
Trespassers would still get in. They love being part of the haunted feeling once in a while. They’re lucky they get to leave that feeling, because I don’t. I have to stay here, isolated and question whether the trespassers were right. Maybe there are ghosts, to torture me, and I just can’t see them.
I could clean off the layers of dust, which collected on the windows or remove all of the spider webs, that even spiders have moved away from. But why would I give anyone the impression, that I live here.? Here, in my own shame and the haunting noises through the corridor.
I let the rain take care of the flower beds, even if it feels as though it rains more inside of my home, than outside. The roses are dry and the daffodils grow on things that were long buried. I was never much of an architect, I was just not sane enough to build a porch so inviting for people to want to come in.
So yeah, maybe the life I’ve build started on a steady fundamental, which ended in crooked walls who don’t shift thanks to that. And to knock everything down and start anew.? Who has the time and energy to do that.? Maybe I could do small things to improve the way it looks like now.? But will it ever be enough.? Won’t be digging my own hole in my backyard have more reasonable purpose.? It’s the only thing, I’ve been good at preparing for.