With my eyes closed, I pictured the old house in my mind. Its worn walls, dusty objects, and the words of the past permeating it. Resentment, disappointment, betrayal, and anger lingered in that space. Yet, strangely, all that darkness didn't frighten me. Instead, the fragments of my heart, trapped within, seemed to gaze upon me with tenderness. Then I knew: hatred was the fence I'd built to protect myself, and it was I who was weeping within it.