As far back as I can remember I have always put extra thought and care into the feelings of inanimate objects.
It started when I was a child with stuffed animals that I would make certain we’re comfortable before I went to bed so that they wouldn’t be upset at me, and the porcelain dolls my grandmother bought me that I was certain were upset about being up in the top of my closet where no one could see them. I feel bad if I hit a chair or something while walking through the kitchen, and have been known to apologize to it. I am scared to death to throw certain objects away, because I don’t want them to be angry at me, which is why there are so very many things in my room currently.
In a way it seems to be the strongest belief I’ve ever held, and I honestly didn’t even recognize it for what it was until the last year. It’s just always been a seamless part of my life. I believe it more strongly than I believe in ghosts, and faerie, and even the gods. I’m not sure why it’s such a concrete thing to me, but I can find solace in it. It’s the one belief I hold that I have never questioned or doubted, but I’ve never really taken any initiative to try to see if there was anything more to it, because it never even occurred to me that there might be. So starting with this entry, I’m going to begin looking into it heavily, and will, in the future, be making more posts about it and how it affects me spiritually.