"What is love? Baby, don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more."

It seems an interesting topic to let one write about. The love and compassion we show for other human beings. How a single person can bring tears to our eyes through the simplest things of an instant messaging conversation. To the pain we feel when a loved one has made a choice we wish they hadn't. I guess I worry to much, I give too much. At least, that is what it feels like sometimes. I have come home to a place I love, not for my own home, but for the people who I have included in my own living breathing home, to find that there are more holes and misplaced items in my home than I could ever imagine. I watch as people drift in and out of their own changes. I watch as many of my morale and upstanding friends choose to drink all the time. I worry as I watch two of them make choices that I know will lead down a dangerous path, and pray that someone who they care about and respect, turns them into someone that I can again see as the bright, beautiful, and fun people they are. I watch as different parts of my living home break down to need repair. It seems like every time I answer the phone I will get another call about an illness, a problem, or a mystery. I don't like it. I don't think people realize how they have let themselves go, how they have abandoned who they really are, and how they have sunk to a level that they do not hold esteem of anyone any more.
I stare at this living house here, only to be reminded of the one at college. We stake out on different paths, and find ourselves in new places, and it is scary. I find that my door no longer locks, acting as if it no longer cares whether I am safe, warm, or happy. My windows have no glass and only catch the hollow breezes, the ones that people never expect to see. Everything else is left in clutters and shadows, off to inhabit a different residence, leaving me to worry and fix my own house.
What am I to do? The same thing I always do. Things fix themselves with love, and hope. I know I have enough of both, and I will see the day when I smile brightly because of both. I did not make my house of glass, and I will keep the faith that both my houses will not only find their own repairs, but grow in strength and beauty. Love always shapes things to be beautiful.