The Place I Used to Call "Home"

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Today I passed by my old house, the one the creditors took from us.

It was actually really hard for me, I expected that I would just see it and that would be it, but it really hurt.

The new owners rented the house and they also remodeled it.

I'll be the first to admit that the remodeling looks nice, but they also changed the color of it, the front door, the mail box--almost everything on the outside

It's like they erased everything about it that I loved. I grew up there, for most of my childhood, and now none of that even matters.

Someone is living there now, and it's not me...it's just hard to believe.

I wish I could go over there and steal the house, then kill them.

I hate that we had to leave, and I hate that I have to live in this ugly, smelly, small, 2 bedroom, 2 bathroom, crammed, privacy-free townhouse in the most "ghetto" part of the neighborhood.

It just sucks.

I almost cried as I saw the house, seriously, I would do anything to have it back and live there again. ANYTHING.

Life is not the same anymore.

At first I was happy to leave the house, you know, not having to wake up everyday wondering if this was going to be the day that we were going to have to give up the house. But now...now I'm just sad about it. It's all gone.

You may think I'm just over reacting and that it's not "that big of a deal", but you're wrong. You'd never understand until it happens to you.

That house has so much history, so much of my life and now it's just gone and no one will even remember except for the people who lost part of their lives in that house.