Describe your Dream House

“aint me A Birmingham, make it look just the way I plan, a little house on the edge of town, porch going all the way around, put him there in a front yard swing, cotton [shirt] make it early spring, for a while [he’ll] be mine again, if you paint me a Birmingham.”

Dream home’s don’t exist. They were never meant to in the first place. As long as you don’t have the one who makes you’re home perfect in the first place, aspiring for a dream house without it is pointless. I don’t have a dream home. I could care less whether I have a house with two stories or a rundown studio apartment that has a leaky sink. Home is where the heart is.
Unless I can wake up everyday and know that the one I love is with me, there is no point in wanting a perfect home. Sitting in a glorious huge house has no true purpose when you’re all alone. No material items can fill the void of an empty heart. A house filled with treasures are no where near as perfect as a rundown apartment that you spend everyday with your best friend who knows you better than yourself and knows that no matter how poor, sick, or helpless you are, loves each moment you spend together thanking god each day that no matter what type of shit-hole you live in, you are happy.

So asking now to describe my dream house, it doesn’t exist. When my best friend is so far away that neither of our houses feel like homes anymore, trying to think of what a perfect home is like, is no where near as perfect as being anywhere in the world with my best friend.