When we moved houses (from Hunter Street, to my grandmothers, where I am now) I told Mum that one of the few reasons I was happy we were moving was that all the old house felt to me was full of hate because of everything that happened there.
She got angry at me and told me she didn't feel that way, that it was amazing home and we had a great time there.
But as I figured out this morning, she was right. That home wasn't filled with hate. I am. The world is purely based on how you perceive it. This morning I felt the same way I did at that house. But I wasn't there. It was just me.
And truthfully, I have no idea how I feel about that.
She got angry at me and told me she didn't feel that way, that it was amazing home and we had a great time there.
But as I figured out this morning, she was right. That home wasn't filled with hate. I am. The world is purely based on how you perceive it. This morning I felt the same way I did at that house. But I wasn't there. It was just me.
And truthfully, I have no idea how I feel about that.
