What doesn't belong in this family
is the quiet one, the reader and
knitter, the one who can clear
a room mere moments after
entering it. The one who still
lives at home, who isn't
much of a partier, and whose
boyfriend comes around so
infrequently he practically
doesn't exist. The one who
comes from a broken home,
the bastard, who should
have been aborted. What
doesn't belong in this family...
is me.
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