I have never deemed myself a renovator, I have always been the fixer-upper with boarded up windows, paint chipping off the top of my ceilings, waiting for the right buyer to see the potential in my living room and my attic while ignoring the demons behind every last closet door. I was the only broken house on a flawless street, until you moved in.
You took a beautiful home with more than enough room for you and destroyed it. In less than a year you’d shattered all the windows, flooded the floors, let all the light bulbs die. You didn’t pay your dues and let the electricity go and the pipes run dry.
You were a lousy neighbor, always loud and running to other houses day and night, ding dong ditch was your favorite game and you were known for knocking down every door. Your one night stands left all our front doors open, none of us knowing it was you except the empty walls of your bedroom. Your feet clicked against the floors with an empty hollow sound that I hope you can’t ignore.
You found cracks in the pavement from lazy builders, a man who never cared enough to really do it right, and you only made it worse until it split in two. The foundation crumbled under your feet begging for help from you, and when you didn’t like the mess you made you moved on somewhere new. You needed a some place strong, not some place that needed you.
I saw the beauty in that place you left for squatters, and believe me when I say it had seen many. But I cleaned the demons and spider webs out of those closets and I will relay the foundation of that saddened ground. I will keep the lights on at night and a warm glow in the wintertime.
I will make a home out of the heart you tried so hard to break.
— m.m // Thanks for everything: An open letter to my boyfriends ex-girlfriend.