Stop Looking Out the Window

My home was once very messy. A lack of being swept caused the dust on the floor to shift into nightmarish feathers empty, yet thickly built of remains. Always as dimly lit as a shadow, the darkness embraced me when no one else could. However, not quite like a shadow, as a shadow requires even the merest amount of light. I can’t remember if the inside ever felt dark or not because I was never paying attention to it. Every second I spent in my home was occupied by staring out the window. A picture had fallen off the wall leaving the frame disassembled on the floor, but I never bothered to pick it up, let alone put it back together. I did not dare to glance at what the frame held within it. This image not only scared and hurt me, but it made me miss a better time. I missed when there weren’t cobwebs in the darkest corners of my home. I miss when dark hallways weren’t the focus while walking around a place I called my home. I hated feeling like home as a place that is stiff and somber. The scariest part of my home was not the house itself, but the things that were inside of it. Beautifully crafted wooden walls were no longer art to me, rather they were prison bars that kept me listless.

But that was a long time ago. I decided to spend summer cleaning out each corner of my home that evoked any type of sadness: the cobwebs, the broken picture frame, and I finally turned on the lights. I watched my own shadow dance on the wall instead of the shadows of the people outside. Art layered on top of art created a masterpiece of my own; shadows painted the walls of the enclosure I was confined in by choice, bound by nothing else but my own desire. I developed a healthier and more productive routine; the most important aspect being time spent talking to the people that I love. The people that fill me with the energy that keeps the lights on.

Today my home is kept clean and the lights are always on. I spend my time looking at my home and the people inside it rather than constantly looking out of my windows. Every person in my home is loved and belongs. The picture frame is restored, and it rests on the desk I study on, but now it is no longer a picture that retains memories of pain. Inside this frame is a picture that holds a short-lived good time, and although it is over I’m glad it happened. The picture remains the same image it always has been. The less I spend looking out the window, the more I appreciate what is within my own.

My home is my mind, anywhere I am loved is where I feel most loved. But, in order to feel loved I had to stop paying attention to the chaos around me and direct my attention on myself. My home didn’t feel like a home until I felt the love that was there. The love always had been there, but I needed to see and appreciate that love in order for it to make the impact it deserves in my life.

Sometimes, something goes wrong in my home. A window breaks or I start letting the dishes pile up again. Whatever it is, I take a minute to look at the people in my home and love them. If I need their support I no longer shy away from asking for help. I always end up getting back on track and when I catch myself looking out the windows too much, I always remind myself to pull the curtain down and focus on the most important thing. My happiness. At last, my home is a happy, clean home filled with the most important figures in my life. Thank you to those who are helping me make this happen. My home wouldn’t be a true home, but a house, without each and every one of you.