I thought i was a nice person. Until today. The amount of empathy i thought i had isn’t there anymore. The understanding has vanished. All these years i have fooled myself. I was wrong. I am not a nice person.

Today I received a text message. Someone broke into my apartment. The place was a mess. Pretty much everything i had it’s not there any more. Clothes, shoes, laptops, money et al are all gone.

Lots of valuables have been stolen but i can deal with that. Not because i can afford to buy and replace the items. I can’t. It’s because i do understand that valuables carry a certain value. A value which can increase, decrease or vanish. Like everything in this world. Including our own lives. We are born, we grow and we die. I am OK with that.

This journey in time is an interesting one. Sometimes is fun, sometimes is hard and sometimes is amazing. No matter what happens in life we count on a few certain things to keep sane and prosper. Family, friends and the place we call home.

Home. A Tiny Solid Piece Of Space Shaping Life

This single place in time and space where you feel peaceful, safe and protected. It can be an one bedroom apartment, a shared room or a family property. It doesn’t matter because it’s your home. The place you sleep, celebrate, make love, cry and move on with your life. A tiny but solid piece of space shaping life in profound ways.

When somebody breaks into someone’s house he, she or they break into one’s life.

I thought i could understand and digest the reasons for this specific behavior. I was wrong. I can’t and i won’t. That makes me not a nice person.

Because i don’t have a home anymore. It’s just a house.