You know what I recently realized? Books teach you to empathize.

I mean normally you’d hear that someone killed someone and you’re likely to condemn the killer. You’d see it as something black and white. But when you read a book, from the perspective of a killer, you realize that you know maybe the killer was provoked. Not saying that the victim should attack (although idk about this….hmm). But what I am saying is that books make you realize that there are a billion fucked up minds out there and that there are a billion fucked up reasons for doing the fucked up things. And all the fucked up reasons are immersed in a gray cloud. And sometimes that gray cloud is lingering towards the white side of the color palette. And that makes you question your lifelong held morality. It shakes your world. It’s like growing up your entire life thinking that sky is blue but then realizing that the blue is really every color but blue because blue is the only color that light reflects. 

I am rambling now. But sometimes when I read books, I can empathize more with murderers than with people who appear to be like me.

This has been a post. In other news, it’s about to rain. It’s beautiful.