Every house has a smell that sets it apart from the others. It's the first thing you notice when you set foot in the environment. Sometimes it's the faint smell of their laundry detergent or the intense scent of the dinner that's being prepared. These are common things that people would associate with home. But when I entered this house it was something new, something I never expected. The scent of marijuana lingered in the curtains and furniture and the smell of sweat, no, the smell of sex lingered in the air. The walls were dark leading into the kitchen and along the counters there was an endless amount of empty vodka bottles; it smelt of liquor. As you continued through the house, you would catch different scents in different rooms and God it was so familiar to be so completely lost in your environment. It was comforting to know that you would never fit in with your surroundings, you would never be safe in this environment. This house was my depression. From the broken windows to dark walls and cheap furniture, it was comfortable. And I, the owner of this house, wondered why I kept returning because it hurt, oh God did it hurt to feel so lost. But I had lived in this fragile house for many years, so long that it became my home.
-e.m.o
