To you, my shelter...

I have never known the difference between a house and a home. I've never cared for it. I just know I've always wanted to have one so I can call my own.

To me, it's the ultimate possession. The visual representation that I have made it. To show it off, to give a purpose and meaning to my life, and I have been fortunate enough to live at different places, and all of them have contributed to my safety and growth as a person, without asking for anything in return.

I have moved on from each and every one of them without asking myself if they needed a new coat of paint, or maybe something they required from me. I never invested in them. I always wanted to keep searching for that perfect house. The search excited me.

Always afraid to stay in one place, and terrified to commit myself to a long term deal, home was still an unknown and alien feeling. My arrogance and insecurity blinded me to the point of believing I didn't need to make an effort to take care of them.

Until I found this fixer upper-upper. A beautiful, quaint and humble place. At first glance, this house had everything against it. It needed a lot of attention, so many areas that needed to be repaired, and it had been stripped down to its foundations.

And yet, I was drawn to it. Why?

The warm I felt under my skin, the peace I felt in my soul, was something I've never felt before. I felt safe and happy, and I was scared.

Scared because I didn't deserve this beautiful shelter. It had gone through so much, and yet it was providing me with everything I needed.

Now, I know what it means to have a home, a shelter. A place where I can be free. It may not last, but for now, there is no other place I rather be, and I will be whatever it needs me to be.

Home is there to provide me with a safe space for my heart, but I also need to pay attention to its needs. Selfishness stays out at the door. It's only a home if the love is reciprocal.

To you, my shelter, life is easier when I feel you around me. Thank you for opening your door to me.