"A House, A Home"

When I was around 12 years old i read a poem loud during my class hours named as "A House, A Home." 
Stanza 1 said
What is a house?
It’s brick and stone
and wood that’s hard.
Stanza 2 said
What is a home?
It’s unselfish acts
and kindly sharing
and showing your loved ones;
you’re always caring.
 I still remember the poem because I've always thought of searching for a home in person and a house whenever I was in a specific place with them.

I've made it home with friends.

With lovers

With my family.

But lately I've started to drown in my thoughts and realized, does the poem really convey this meaning to us, or are we misunderstood?

Does it really say to make a house in any place and a home by only caring for others?

I'm not saying to make houses or homes for places and people you adore. What I'm thinking from my perspective is:

Maybe right now you have to realize that your journey is not about loving another person.

Maybe this is the time to learn how to sleep at night without expecting someone to validate your feelings and some place to join your attachment with.

Maybe right now you are being taught to love yourself as your inner peace and that you can take care of your soul, and you don't need anyone or anything fancy to do it for you.

Maybe today marks the beginning of the new version of you—someone who will not rent some space in another person's heart and in a temporary space to feel you 'belong'.

Because, darling, I believe that you can be your own home. A home that will satisfy all your needs and wants A home that will never get abandoned. And make a house of your personal attachments that will never be broken. And I hope someday you will learn to believe.

I see it too. 

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