My dad’s been a dick lately. I got a part-time job at the Blockbuster to shut him up. He likes drinking, which I don’t care, it’s just he doesn’t like hearing me say he’s drunk. I don’t understand him and he doesn’t understand when I try telling him I don’t understand why he doesn’t understand. I rarely leave the house anymore. I read somewhere the frontal lobe doesn’t stop developing until you’re twenty-five. Well, what happens after that? Am I gonna be the same person forever when that happens? Really late, around 2AM I can hear the crickets and it’s really peaceful outside. The sun rises around 7AM here during fall, so I get a lot of quiet time. I’m sorry if including “that scene” in chapter 53 of the fic bothered anyone. It’s been a fantasy of mine for a while, but I never considered how others would react to it. My pillow finally got too dirty. It’s gross. Dad asked for money but spent too much again, so I got mad and showed him the pillow. He didn’t care about it. I guess he’s right keeping distance. He burned down His house about two years ago. Did you know that? Dad didn’t remember that. I’ve changed.