Borderlines

Memories

Human memories are very fragile things...

This place was better than places I've stayed in before in all honesty. E and I both wondered off in different directions both curious to explore this strange, crumbling, building which felt as though it was far away from anything else, far away from any trouble which we had faced, far away from responsibilities, far from danger. I stared at the tattered sofa which stood in front of me in its ruined state.

A family had lived here once. Children had grown up here. Fights had been held here and friendships were formed here too. Someone's best moments of their life, all now forgotten by this house as time and nature had reclaimed it washing away any, and all, memories which it once held. Human memories are such frail things, just like their lives. Gone before they even make a dent in this world. Yet, still, they are able to affect the world around them. It makes no sense how they do it. No, I must not think such morbid things.

There was a greenish nibbled three-legged table in the centre of the room scattered with pieces of the decaying ceiling.. This house is the sort of place that fits in everywhere yet nowhere. It will always be out of place wherever it is. Yet, it will be unnoticed, just another building in the street; Just another person in a crowd. Ruined, rejected, a wreck. Life always goes on whether you want it to or not, constantly churning away on its endless path. The past is behind us, forgotten, or so we hope. We can never escape what we did and where we came from and we can never go back. I can never go back. Never back to that place which I once called home. With a perfect little family more broken than any other inside. I will never go back. 

I've not got so much to say, but this is the best-written part of the story. xx Till next time. x