well my brothers home again and it is the weirdest thing ever. he is himself, the same old idiot with all the luck, the same asshole who shouts at my mother for doing everything she can to save is unsorry ass....and then he goes and does something like cry, or listen for once, or say sorry, or just plain talks. Jackass. I hate this. yet I know somehow I will use it, later. damn practicality. I need to talk, but I can't because anyone who knows me knows that I don't ever talk about what I need to talk about. This sucks and then I have to put up with the shallowness that is most of the people who sit at my table. although maybe this is shallow as I've been told countlessly I am not effected by this. You are not a part of this. Thanks for that. and I'm sorry if you read this you shouldn't have, besides this is only the bad side!