Let's get some things straight.

Thoughts. What a confusing thing.

I always get lost in my thoughts.

Sometimes it's good, and sometimes it's not.

For me, more often than not, my thoughts go down a dark spiral.

For example, I feel I'm being called to do something more. But I don't know what.

Let me give you some of my family history.

The great Irish potato famine. 1847-ish.

That's an era that's been engraved in my memory since I first heard the story.

For you see, I come from Irish decent. Obviously.

Well, back around 1847, give or take, the King of England refused to feed the Irish, and so we were left with potatoes. These potatoes had a disease in them, causing a lot of the population to die. My family wasn't having it. We started revolutions. We started to convince people to stand up, and do something. To change the way we were being treated.

My mom said we tried to persuade the king, and I'm pretty sure we tried to kill him...but that's not the point!

So, as we were fighting, the king did not like that. Not at all.

All of a sudden, my family was presented with two options: 1. Have our bloodline wiped out or 2. Get the hell out of dodge.

Obviously, we took option 2.

That's the story of how we got kicked out of one of two countries. The other country was Germany, but I'm not sure about that story.

So, my family, being the stubborn pride people, always find ourselves in trouble with the law. Not in a bad way, we just voice our opinions (rather loudly) about unfair laws.

It's genetically wired in me to fight back if needed. I've gotten some pretty nasty glares from teachers because I've said something in class loudly, but not directly to them.

And I don't regret it all.

I feel I'm being called to start a revolution.

When I'm old enough where I'll be taken seriously, I will. I'm ready for it. It's like I've been trained to, all my life, but haven't actually done it.

It's like having generations of experiences implanted in my brain. It's like a gentle nudge, steering me in different ways. It's not like a forceful push, but more of a "I've done this before, I don't think this is the way to go, but if you want to go there you can" kind of nudge.

Now that I'm writing this down, I realize that I probably sound insane.

It's just a difficult feeling to put down, but somehow I know.

Being a shy kid, doesn't mean I'm antisocial. It just means, I'm waiting for an opportunity.

I'll say a thousand words to you, without even talking.

I feel like I've been misplaced. Where I am, is not my home. Home is where my family is. My family isn't here. I want to go back home, but I can't. And it's killing me.

Sure, my mom's side is kind-of messed up. We have smokers, alcoholics, and jail records.

But the ones who smoke, are stressed. They're single parents just trying to support their kids. They're stuck in a low pay job, trying to give their kids a life.

The ones who are alcoholics, are tired of being used. They're single parents, taking care of kids who didn't know they're mom or dad. My cousin, has two wonderful daughters. Their mom walked out shortly after they were born. He was in a car accident causing him to be disabled to the point where he can't work.

The jail records, are single parents, with no money, trying to send their kid to school. To give them food for each meal. To give them a better life then they had.

I've never met more stressed people who are more amazing. They tell the best jokes, have the best stories, and love to laugh. They also have wicked tattoos.

You can judge them, but wait until you know them. You'll find they're actually really good people, who'll do their best to protect you, and help you out.

You can judge them as soon as you know them. But don't look at their addictions or problems, or scars or tattoos. Look at their eyes, their smiles, and stories. Meet them before you walk away. Like so many others have done to them.

I miss home.