Where are you going, my baby, my own?

[poisonrvolution]

It sometimes, frequently, feels like it'll all never end. They say that you get what you give. And I think, "Maybe that's my problem." I try, but no matter what I do, it seems like I'm not generous of spirit the way I would like to be. The way my dad is. The way my brother is. Self preservation be damned. I'm reserved. I'm aloof, even. And I don't know how to be any other way. Of COURSE it's not reciprocated. It's times like these that I feel that it'd be so much better to just leave. But I can't bear the thought of doing that to Dad. He's had so much sadness in his life already, the poor old man just wants some peace and quiet. His pain is about the only thing that really reduces me to tears. Sometimes I fear for him. I've always thought he reminded me so much of Robin Williams. They looked so much alike; short, stocky stature, gap-toothed, mad brilliance muddled with deep torment. I fear that Dad will end up the same way. And I can't bear the thought of giving him anything else to weigh him down.

Or we could simply pack our bags and catch a plane to Barcelona 'cause this city's a drag