is a house just a house?

The house I grew up in is now suffocating me. I used to cry over thinking that I could ever leave this house but now I'm unsure if I even want to spend one more second. It may be the person living in the home or the memories and glimpses of the things that caused my pillow sheet to be wet.  

I celebrated my birthdays, graduations, and everything in our garden. I fell asleep on the couch of our living room a thousand times and waited for my dad to come and put a blanket over me. I loved this house. now I hate it. Every moment feels like torture. The stairs I used to climb as fast as I could became first-row seats to hear my parents fight. The door of the kitchen closed so that my parents wouldn’t take a peak at the cookies I baked became a tool to separate the family from seeing each other. The house with two stories I played hide and seek became the house where the family plays hide and seek but no one seeks the other. 

I want a fresh start. with a new place, blank page. the walls are empty, no memories. I want a new start. with different people, a peaceful environment. and most importantly, I want a house I will be happy when I step inside. 

On the other hand, it will be impossible to live in a house meant for 3 people with 2 people. The house will make sure you feel the absence. The chairs around the table will be empty, the rooms will be lifeless and books will get dusty. Foods in the refrigerators will change, the soda you don’t like won’t be there anymore. The chocolate you don’t eat won’t be there anymore. It will feel like you are living with a ghost. The house will get quiet and still. 

Two people, one big house. The room which used to belong to two people, now belongs to one. The foods we used to eat have a little bit more salt now. The way my bed is made is different, the pillow is in the wrong place. The plushie is not placed in a funny pose, it is all wrong and different. 

A house represents the memories and moments a person goes through. when I was little the “toddler filter” made me see things like they were happy moments. but as I grew I realized none of the things are happy moments. That's why I hate this house. it lied to me. I thought the reason my parents closed their bedroom door was because we were making noise but it turns out it was to block the argument noises. They forgot the walls are thin…