My Whole World

A powerful poem by Chloe Bell about seeking a home in other people

I am falling apart, nearly as fast as my whole world is.

Unfortunately, my whole world is, once again, all in one person.

That seems to be the thing that I do, the thing I’ve done my whole life.

I build my world in other people, or if not my world then my home.

Homes that I know will fall apart.

I am a homewrecker.

I bulldoze into people’s lives, knowing that I will leave them broken.

Broken by me, and its shattered pieces cutting me deeply.

I know I shouldn’t build homes in other people, people I know are only temporary in my life.

But I do, and then they leave.

And who can blame them?

Maybe they’re not the ones who are temporary, maybe I am a temporary person.

I crash in, give it everything, or nothing, and then I leave before they can leave me.

And sometimes I leave too early, and I watch someone else’s world fall apart, because of me,

and other times I don’t leave in time, and I watch my whole world fall apart, whilst I stand there helpless,

unable to do anything to stick it back together.

The only thing I can do is run. Run far, far away, where no-one knows me, and I can search for more people to create homes in, more lives to destroy.

Destroy, destroy like a bomb.

A bomb, like a disaster.

A disaster, like my life.

My life, like a joke.

A joke, like I hide behind every single time my world falls apart.