you live in a friendly house.
every season you redecorate it with fresh lights and bright colors.
your house is a warm and kind house, with a sweet and safe person inside.
does that sound like what you want me to think?
no one’s ever knocked at the door, and they’ll never bother knocking.
no one’s ever dropped in for a cup of tea, and they never will.
does that sound like what you think?
because i figured out that your friendly house has been empty for a long, long time. a few years ago i tried to stop by—but you never were home when i knocked.
finally i let myself in. (you left the door unlocked, and i wanted to make sure you were ok.) i was surprised by how stripped bare the inside was.
it was pretty clear that there was no way you lived here anymore. maybe you never did in the first place.
i’ve left you a lot of notes, but they just keep piling up unopened. i guess it makes sense; you don’t expect to find any.
seems like every time you come back to redecorate, you don’t bother looking inside to see if anything’s changed. you don’t check your mail, either.
why would there be any, you probably figure.
i’ve been trying to catch you sometime when you come back to decorate the outside of the house. but so far the changes in the lights only seem to happen while i’m asleep.
i wish i had your new address.
maybe you don’t even have one. maybe you spend your life decorating thousands of houses, just like this one.
does that sound like you?
there may be notes like this in all of them.
i hope you check one day.