Each of us, even the latest skeptic and related to futurism (science of the future), as entertainment for fools, tries to build its future. That is, to create your own fairy tale, a fairy tale about how to live further and what you should come to at the end, where, as it should be, a standard ending always follows ... "... and they lived happily ever after and died on the same day" . So, everyone builds his own fairy tale, as it was said above, it’s just that not everyone, not everyone, is able to build it. After all, one idea is not enough, it is necessary to create a project, select a contracting organization, material, obtain the necessary approvals and the like. There is a lot to build some kind of house, in which later someone will spend his whole life, on the rights of an occupant, who paid time for the right to live here, and who does not suspect how much effort someone spent to build this house. This tenant, and if the house is an apartment building, then the tenants can live in this house, someone trying to improve something in it, someone putting scabrous inscriptions on its walls with fire, someone appears in it, and someone leaves forever, someone moves out of it and only traces remind of them when you run your fingernail through the wallpaper and under them you find those old wallpapers that were left after the people left, testifying only that they only left our life, and if you look deeper - then their trace remains forever. The house, like everything else in this world, has its own life span, initially only being born, when all systems and communications are still out of tune, when there are no trees and odorous flower beds around, when its main occupants are young and carefree. Then the house gets settled, children appear in it, something happens at every point - somewhere joy and happiness, somewhere sorrow, somewhere pretentious wealth, and somewhere - making ends meet with the fact that to survive. House is inhabited by different people, but they all share a house. And here pass years, the house grows old. And its tenants with him. Increasingly, buses with black ribbon on the sides appear in his yard, and more and more often, those who were born, lived, loved, built their families and raised children left it. Increasingly, the house becomes lonely and he silently and silently mourns the care of each of his tenants, and when they leave, he caresses his gray hair for the last time with his breeze of drafts like the last “forgive”.
He saw a lot in his lifetime, an old house, he suffered a lot, but he, like its inhabitants, is not eternal. And soon it will be demolished and a new, more perfect one will appear in its place, and that no one will soon remember the old one at this place, and only the old records of the archive will keep its memory, which will eventually destroy , and the ashes from them will fly over the earth, proving once again the frailty of our world.
A person is the same house in which there are many apartments and in which someone lives, someone more dear to him, someone who is detrimental to him. The same processes occur in a person as in a house and his life is as short-lived as at home. But, unlike in a house, a person has one advantage over him - the right to choose those who will live in his, human, house. The right of choice, which is responsible for the decision, which then, as a rule, cannot be corrected.
How happy we will be depends on who lives in our house.
In essence, do we need to have a lot of tenants in our house? Enough parents, close relatives, a couple of friends and a loved one. It would seem that how little is needed for happiness, but how much ... After all, it is a very difficult task to make the right choice and place in your home exactly those people who will be exactly who you want to see them.Of course, one apartment in the house is already occupied - parents live here, whom we don’t choose, but for the most part we appreciate and love, in spite of their oddities, which, as it seems to us, with time, increase more and more. One apartment ... And the rest? Yes, we can make them pseudo-friends, pseudo-loved people, then expelling them. Apartments are empty and then again someone comes to live in them. And again search and again disappointment.
We still cannot understand for ourselves what is best - so that the apartments are empty and look for suitable tenants for them or populate the first people they meet, then expelling them in a month or two. Who today lives in your house in the apartment, on the door of which hangs the sign "Friend"? And what concept do you put into this word? And who lives behind that door, on which the word “Love” is brightly flaunted? And is the children's laughter heard outside the door of the “Kids” apartment?
Who lives in your house? And who has a place in it?
I know for sure that I have no places in it. I can not be your friend, because your friends are the right people, you are easy and comfortable with them, you are not afraid to appear in their company in public. But I oppose you with my harassment and stupid vulgar jokes, my image does not allow you to appear in society with me, because it’s too dirty and you don’t need to get dirty about it.
I often ask myself the question - who am I for you? Not exactly a friend. As well as the exact fact that you do not love me. Then who? Who! An official who you can make fun of? Or, as my friend says, you need me as a “roof” for your work and therefore you have to communicate with me? I do not know what to think, and I'm tired of thinking. Every day brings more and more pain, pain from feelings and loneliness, pain from the consciousness of one’s own inferiority and deformity, both moral and physical. The pain of the fact that my house is empty and only in one apartment a candle burns, burned two-thirds. Here lives my mother, who is always waiting and praying for me. The heat of this apartment warms my whole house and his heart, its heat is enough to warm everything in it, and let the house look outside and look dark and dark, I know for sure that he is still alive. But the candle burned to a third and the day will come when it will go out and the house will say the last “forgive” to its lonely tenant with its breeze. And then the house will be left alone, it will gradually be sharpened by rain and wind, windows and doors will be broken for it, its communications will stop working. And soon there will be only walls from the house. But they will be finished by snow, rain and wind, and soon the walls will collapse and their heap will become the grave of the house.
Will he regret that he never let fleeting tenants into empty apartments with signs “Friend”, “Love” and others. Probably not. He tried to look for tenants for them, when he was still very young, but he found those he was looking for. Perhaps he was too demanding of those whom he sought, and perhaps he could not give them what he should have. But he could not be false and did not tolerate falsehood from others. And so when he saw the real faces of his tenants, after they settled in him, he was sad and lost them. Most likely, it was not they who was to blame for the tenants who didn’t seem to be to blame, but the house itself, since they drew them features and qualities that they didn’t have or properties that he thought they had them, but they didn’t guess about it. Therefore, the house lost them, and they went nowhere, with their resentment and sadness, in the end, each in his own way experiencing what had happened. But no one was good.
And the house was left alone ... He realized that this, or the one he is looking for, is not in the world, and he realized that it is no longer possible to ruin people's lives with their “games”. And he closed his windows and doors. And he waited for the wind and rain to do his job.
Lonely house