rants and ramblings of utter randomness

I never hated my parents, either (and I had THREE of them, including my stepdad, who I consider to be my second father). They annoyed me to no end at times ,but that's just the generation gap or whatever. My mother was a chronic worrier. She wouldn't let me leave the yard until I was eleven, not because she thought I'd go shoot heroin, but because she thought I'd get run over by a car. It was her issue, but eh. I knew she loved me, even while I was fuming.