I wished I was in Paul's family this weekend. Not that mine sucks. I love my family very much. It's just that...they're different. I went over there this morning to drop off a cd for his little sister, and his dad opened the door. "Gosh, it's a little early to be up and around." It was just past noon. In my family, if I wasn't up by noon on the weekends, my mom would come in and raise my shade and make me get up. And most of the time she wouldn't let me sleep that long. I mean, noon was stretching it. 10:30 was my usual wake up call. "You're wasting your day." But I have nothing else to do. His family just operates a little differently than mine. And it's hard for him to understand. He can come and go as he pleases. No big deal. He doesn't know that the reason I moved out was because I was asked to leave. He can't comprehend fights so bad you don't think you'll ever speak again. Because he's not been there. There are just certain ways you have to deal with my family. Tosha's seen it. And I'm sorry about that. But they're not bad people. That's just the way we interact.