A BROKEN HOME

What is it that won’t let me out?

What is it which makes me feel empty?

What is it which gives me a sense of loss?

Is it the fact that I loved him for even a second? NO. Because I did not love him, I tried hard, but love is that one trait we humans have no control over.

Is it the disappointed faces of my parents? No

I know what it is. It is the EXPECTATION factor. Not from him, no. But a general expectation from life, that things are going to change. An idea that I am finally going to have a home of my own, with a husband who is not romantic but will be okay when he’ll become a father. My kids, who will be mine, the way I am my mom’s. A perfect little world of mine.

The day I broke up with him was the day I lost a home which I was not even aware existed inside me. What disturbs me is not the feeling of losing him, but the feeling of losing all those beautiful expectations I’ve had from life.

Being a woman, the idea of having a home of my own was the most appealing to me. I did not care much that the person I am planning to build a home with is very dry, as I used to put it back then. Now I realize that he never wanted to make a home with me. I was ready to give him a chance, despite his carelessness.

I’d thought that he’d be okay once he starts living with me. Our home will be a beautiful place where we will give our kids everything we’ve missed in life. But the problem was that all this planning was a one-sided story, and one-sided stories never get to a happy end unless you mutually agree to things.

So all in all, the reason for my emptiness is no ones fault but my own. My mistake was the expectation of having a home of my own, and the second big mistake was planning that with a person who never cared.

That incident made me realize that if I need a home, I should build it on my own, without depending on a man. Because a man was responsible for breaking a home I thought I was trying to build with him from day 1.

 

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