˗ˏˋOur Differences Sequelˊˎ˗

-26-

Still in Devin's POV

The date was very awkward. Faith and Travone had a great time, but the rest of us had very obvious tensions with our dates. I think the other couple had separate affairs or something, because they barely spoke a word to each other the entire night.

I sat in my room with headphones on, listening to music while sitting in my rolling chair. Marco Polo was up and walking around. I don't like to suffocate him in his enclosure all day long.

School started back today, but I didn't have classes. So instead, I did absolutely nothing for the entire day. Even when Travone invited a bunch of people over to watch a football game, I just stayed in my room. I wasn't having an awful day or anything, but I felt lazy and tired.

Maddie had called me a few times, but I've been arguing about her and Jessica a lot lately, and I wanted space from both of them. I couldn't even think about that situation, because I was still suffocated by the weight of what happened in Tennessee, and honestly, I hated the idea of Maddie possibly bringing it up again.

I know that it wasn't my fault, and I've tried to remind myself of that anytime the events reoccur in the back of my mind. It felt like a really bad secret that you bury deep inside of you and never mention to a single soul. It shouldn't feel like that for me, because it obviously wasn't my fault; however, I feel so fucking guilty over it regardless. I feel dirty. I feel like I've done the worst thing imaginable, and to me, it feels like people would see it that way if I told them.

My Mom and I have never had a picture perfect relationship. I don't bring it up much, mostly because I doubt anyone cares. I've always been envious of Dylan and Maddie's parents. They have so much, and they give them so much- affection included.

Kids that grew up with detached, unaffectionate parents don't always grow up to be touch hungry. In fact, I find myself in a mindset very much like my Mom's very often. It took me weeks to touch Jessica, and I only did it because she asked me to. It wasn't because I didn't like her, or because I felt frigid and standoffish with her: I just didn't know what her boundaries were, or mine for that matter.

I don't know how far mental illnesses trace back in my family line, but I do know that it's genetic on my Mom's side.

Heart disease is genetic on my Dad's side.
My great grandfather died from the same thing as my Dad when he was in his early 40's.
My Dad's only 43.

If I carry the gene, then I won't live very long. That would mean that I have at least 20 years left of my life. The alternative to carrying the gene would be that the severity of it wouldn't be quite as bad. I've always been really healthy and active. From what I know, I haven't shown any major symptoms of being close to death- knock on wood.

Growing up, I was actually more of a mama's boy. It wasn't because I felt the most love from her. In fact, I don't think she's ever said the three words to me. I felt more drawn to my Mom in my childhood because of how much I lacked her affection. I guess it made me miss her more.

My Dad's always been the nicer parent. He's not very cuddly either, but that's simply just his personality. I have a lot of respect for him, though. He raised me, and was always there. He did have the tendency to side with my Mom- especially as I got older and made my own choices. We distanced a lot once those years rolled around, and it's been that way since. I miss when I was still small and innocent. It's not that things were super peaceful when I was a kid or anything, but I was still naive and I didn't realize that the things that she was doing to me were wrong. I'd rather go back to those days. Everything hurts more when you're older and more aware.