Dear Future Shelter, 
No, this was not sent to a tree and got lost and reached you. This is meant for you. And no, I’m not a koala. 
I take shelter in people I love. I make homes out of people. 
Just like you’d unintentionally memorize the corners of your house and room; where the couch is, where the bed is even if it’s dark, I’ll know the sound of your smile by heart. 
I cannot promise you to stay forever. But I promise to take care of you and make you feel loved for as long as I stay. I cannot promise you that I won’t be fragile nor that I won’t need reassurances every 3 minutes that your ceiling won’t fall on me and crush me. But I can promise you not to sleep until every corner of the house is checked and kissed goodnight. 
I trust myself when it comes to people. I wonder though, how will you be like? 
I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t stayed in other places before, I’d be lying if I said that it wasn’t me that overlooked the flaws willingly to fulfill my heart’s calling. I’ve been in houses before, I’ve willingly stayed regardless of everything. I called the mud on the floor chocolate until it tasted sweet. I called the cracks in the walls beauty marks till non-cracked walls became foreign to the both of us. I said the big hole in the roof just lets more light in to make you feel better but I failed to mention how it flooded the house with rain in winter. — But to be honest, I loved every single part of the terrible cold I got afterwards. I said the missing steps in the stairs were just your way of forcing me to jump even when I’m sad, to cheer me up. I stayed even when your walls were starting to tumble down. I tried everything; glue, tears, cement, hugs, tape, blood, nothing worked.
I couldn’t leave. For how could I leave you at your weakest after you’ve sheltered me at your strongest for quite some time? I could not. I stayed till the very last moment. Watching the cracks dwell, the steps falling out and the floor developing sharp edges that cut my feet. 
Till one day, I woke up to a piece of stone pushing against my chest and crushing me. I asked you to stop, you said it wasn’t you, you said you couldn’t help but do this, you couldn’t help but leave. The worst part, was me, after a long, painful recovery, after trying to get rid of the small wooden pieces you left puncturing through my heart, the worst part, was me trying to rebuild you, to build a home out of ashes.
So, dear future shelter, I cannot promise you not to be scared of you, but I promise you to be wholeheartedly loyal.
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