I don't know anymore.

[larghetto]

I've never liked coming home, or at least never coming back to the place I live. Even when I've done nothing wrong, I always suspect something at "home" will be out of place. Nothing ever happens, but it did when I was younger. If I was with my mom, I would worry the house would be on fire because she left the stove on and passed out, or, she would be dead. With my Grandparents, I always worried that something would be wrong with my mother and they would be the ones to break the news to me. This happened a few times, actually. And, with my father and step-mother, I always worried I would've said the wrong thing, or my teachers would call and that I'd walk in and get yelled at. That never happene, just the opposite. I would be home, they'd come in, and then the yelling would start.

I don't even remember what I did.