A/N: I don't really have Erik's immense vocabulary so please be kind in reading this. It isn't meant to be anything spectacular, just a thought I got while reading some "phanphictions". This was written in the total of about fifteen to twenty minutes. It's just meant to be short, "sweet", and to the point. I'm sorry for any grammatical mistakes. Thanks for your understanding!

Have you ever thought of how families are so much like architecture? Through my life and my studies, this is what I've learned. My pathetic excuse of a life is the proof. Bear with me as I explain this. Hopefully you and the world can give me that one request, just to give me five minutes of your time and hear me out, if just for this one time.

Here is how I see it…

The father is like the inner walls of the house (sometimes could even be the supporting walls). A father is not necessarily needed but is nice and important to have. A father helps mold the house into something unique, something to be admired. It gives the house its own rooms, its own compartments to store objects precious to the house, knowledge that can continue with the process of forming a unique object.

Without the walls, the house is plain; there isn't much life to it. The child can still try and decorate their being with odds and ends, but without the father there is no organization in the mess of knowledge. The child becomes like a cluttered attic; everything is tripped over and the only thing that collects after a while is dust. Nothing is put to use, just stored.

The mother is the most important part. The mother is the foundation of everything. In the first nine months of the child's life within the womb the mother becomes the house herself, protecting the child from all harm in the real world. But once the child draws their first breath, the mother becomes the foundation, a stable point for the child to grow upon. For a child to be raised to be all it can be, the mother must be smooth, properly lain and sturdy for the child to fall back on.

But when the mother doesn't care, she is unstable and the child, the house, will fall. It doesn't matter if the father is there or not, without the foundation in the child's life, it grows up lost, weak. The guidance of what must be is gone. There really is no ambition to finish the project.

The child is the house over all, the final product of everything put together. The mother and father must come together just as the foundation and the walls must form into one. If one thing is missing, or just crude, then great disaster can follow.

And that is me. I knew from the beginning I would never be uniquely made. I would never have those walls to shape me into my own, to guide me into being something. But then my mother - it might have been better if she was missing as well. No foundation is better than a poor one, because with a poor foundation what could have been will never be realized. In order to fix the mistake of the wrong foundation, the whole project must be torn down, destroyed.

I am a dilapidated house, never given the proper chance to show what I can be because I never had the foundation I was in need of. The supplies to form my being were weak in the first place, but when I was being formed in my early years the foundation found it upon herself to punish and torment me for my decrepit being.

And the rest of the world knew this. Whether through my terms of architecture or just because the damage was external as well as internal, they knew I had to be torn down. I guess that's why I can't really blame humanity for my own problems. They just realize what must be. In order to fix my foundation's, my mother's, wrongs I must be destroyed.