My House

If I am a house, I have a hundred rooms.  Each room is wired for lovely lighting.  And with the light, the room works.  Everything inside the room is useful and bright.  Ready for action. My house is tidy.  My house is strong.

Except.  My wiring is muddled.  The wires that bring light are fragile.  They get mixed signals so they weaken.  Rooms get dim.  Everything in that room gets covered in cobwebs.  But the room is still there, and, with effort, can be useful.

Those rooms are not the problem.  Not really.

The problem rooms have no light at all.  The wires are cold and quiet.  No light shines.  Blackness fills these rooms.  And cobwebs choke the corners.  Everything in those rooms crumbles.

I cannot use lanterns to reach these rooms.  The doors are locked and barred.  Dark seeps through the cracks, pulling at hallways.  These rooms are gone.

And I need them.

I hear a lot, "Oh, weakness?  You should exercise."

But the problem isn't the lights.  It's the wires connecting the lights.  If communication gets cut-off, all the exercise in the world will not touch that light. I can work on this house every hour of the day and it won't matter.

Because my house is haunted.  Doors slam shut.  Lights flicker on and off.   I think I know this house, but the house changes.  Every day.  Over many days.

Still.  I make the most of my time here.  Though it's haunted, and broken, and tired, it's my house.

And love shines even with damaged wiring :)