Sometimes I forget that emotional attachments to places and people exist. It's a weird concept to me since I grew up moving house a lot. My parents grew up with these attachments and were the ones who gave me this life-even living it alongside me. Yet, they can't grasp why I don't get attached like the localites do. I've always resented them for not getting how frustrating and isolating moving house is whenever I've explained it over the years. Maybe it's the same kind of denial immature parents have in general. I give up either way.
Except New York City. It's amazing here.