[In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt 7/12/2016 | Guest]
I don’t let people into my home. Ever.
Seriously, I avoid it at all costs, if possible.
I would rather gladly go out of my way to walk 5 miles in the blistering heat, or in a blizzard, to meet someone somewhere, than have them come into my home. It’s not that my home is messy, or decrepit, it’s just not… nice. I always do this thing, with everyone I meet, everywhere I go, where I am constantly comparing myself to them. Not so much on a materialistic “I want everything they have!” level (maybe a little…), more like, I’m not creative. I’m not colorful. My apartment is dull, and white, and boring. There is no beauty, no warmth, no flare. Despite the love that is contained within these walls, at a glance, it feels bare and empty.
Part of this is because I simply don’t have the means to buy, build, or create things to make this place look more like a home. We can’t paint the walls, so adding a splash of color isn’t much of an option, and money is always a major issue. Maybe when we move into a house of our own, things will be different. I can decorate, and paint, and create beautiful spaces (with the help of Pinterest, because I’m about as creative as a paper bag). But for now, a part of me is a little bit ashamed of my tiny apartment, with it’s white walls, old furniture, and lack of creativity. My apartment does not look like a home, even though it is one. This makes me sad.
I’m not sure where I am going with this. Am I the only one who feels this way about heir space? I have big ideas and dreams for what I want my home to look like, some day. A place that reflects me and my family, and our love for each other. Until then, I’ll keep making up excuses to keep guests, and all other people, on the other side of these boring, white walls.
Thanks for reading, friends.