Normal

I wish they would open their filthy eyes.
I just want them to listen to me but they're stuck in their own messed up world to pay attention.
Money does that to you.
It brings out the worst.
My father's job made us move all the way across the country to live in some halfass mansion that makes me want to vomit in the mailbox. Trust me, I was debating on actually doing it. That is where the story begins. Literally, in the driveway where my fathers white Corvette is parked.