I was born in the dead cold of December in 2002. I belived (and still do) that I was a superhero. I love my brother. It's difficult to think about the past, not because of how dejected it was, just because I don't remember. My parents, when they were together, were cute and didn't fight a whole lot. I skipped pain and sorrow. I can chose to let something itch at my mind. I lie sometimes. I'm very thankful. I want my mother to live till she's sixty. One time, when I was in the 4th grade, I split my head open. Two years and more memories later I did it again, not intentionally of course. I worry about my heart breaking. I wouldn't say things are well at home. My step-dad is a broken person who has no will to fix himself. He yells more often than he loves. My dad has married a woman whom has drastically changed from the person he knew twenty years ago. I think he knows it. We get along way better when she isn't there. I pray for him to find an end to his farce love. I pray for my mother as well, I pray so she finds refuge for her damaged heart. I feel that if I treat people better than what I have whitenesed, they will be above that low since of cruelty and find elation. I test myself often, and often test myself.
In your mom's Chevy Rover