It looked like a dungeon in the real estate photos, much like the one above I took this evening, but it never felt like one.
I’ve lived in too many places to count or remember now, but I’ve never had that feeling of having a home, not that I really want that or anything, yet.
Today my little sister and I cleaned out the two bedroom apartment we lived in for just over a year.
I guess this also marks just over a year since I became her guardian, not out of obligation but an assumed sense of responsibility, and probably a little guilt as well.
(I would still do it again now.)
People always tell me, you’re a good person/brother for doing that, and I really appreciate those sentiments, I really do.
But, I’m not a very good person most of the time, at least not in the way I want to be. She’s 15, and I’m unfortunately not infallible. I’m trying to be better little by little.
This was supposed to be a short post, words are too cumbersome. I hate talking about myself unless it’s from a detached viewpoint that I can examine and twist and manipulate and have fun with.
I’ll probably delete this or make it private later. v personal. Too personal I think. v tumblr.