...But The Pain Is Still Real.

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Okay, so, not that anyone cares, because--let's face it--no one really does, I have been gone for a very long time. A few months, probably.

Long story short, my father and his wife kicked me out of my home. After a short homeless stint, I found a new home with my long-lost brother and sister. His name is Martin, and her name is Melissa. It was for five years that we had not seen each other (like, exactly five years, to the day), so it was nice. Every one welcomed and threw money at me. My relatives are all as weird as I remember them (except they're smaller than I remember). Everybody seemed to be getting pregnant, and I'm somehow one of the skinniest people in the family (I don't just mean compared to the pregnant ones).

Hmm, I live with a bunch of potheads, so that's fun, especially when our roommate is high and drunk at the same time, because he has the memory of a goldfish. Lots of fun. Sadly, I'm the "Designated Roommate," as I do not wish to once again smoke or drink. Not that there's anything wrong with doing either, it's just a personal choice.

So, aside from the drug deals and drive-bys and the many, many women that pass through our crib, I have kept a level head. I have confirmed that insanity does, indeed, run in the family, as Martin almost killed me during a psychotic episode, and potheads are extremely fun people when they aren't raiding your kitchen for food because they have the munchies or tripping over shit because they think they're floating when they walk through a dark hallway.

Also, I'm currently chilling at my aunt's house because this place is kick ass. The coolest thing, though, is that there are four generations of the family here: My aunt, her daughter, her daughter, and her son. Cool beans, right? Right.

And, as a side note, I just want to say that I really like babies, just only when they're somebody else's. Trust me, I'll be a total dad to any baby I find, but I don't want one of my own just yet. Great as I am, there's still two issues: One, babies always stare at me, and only me. Like, for a long, long time without even blinking. It's creepy. Two, I'm not sure I have learned enough in my short life to fully undertake the responsibility of caring for, loving, and raising another life. So, all that is for another time.

Hmm, that's really all that I would want to mention. There's other small details, but I'm not going to waste space if no one wants to read it.

I'll try to make it back at some point.

-Matt

PS- Also, my music preference has grown to fully incorporate heavy and death metal.
PPS- Deathklok Rules.