There is really a lot i could talk about here. The fact that I'm technically a bastard child because my parents had me 2 months before they got married, or that they somehow timed it so my mom and her two sisters would all have their first children within a 5 months period (weird especially considering their current relationships). I could talk about all the pets my dad would bring home, the ducks, Donald and Daisy and Donald's unfortunate fate, or Billy the billy goat whom also didn't go out in the best way (but not the worst either #sorryDonald), i could talk about the racing pigeon that lived in our garage for 6 months, which was the same amount of time it took my dad to teach me how to not die while attempting to move in a pair of barbie strap on roller skates from target. I could talk about the time my dad took the door to my room off its hinges and hung beads because i was in my princess phase and thoroughly enjoyed talking back and slamming doors and racing my dad down the hallway (oblivious to the fact he was so OBVIOUSLY letting me win) and calling him a loser when i won and him getting mad at me and telling me not to be mean and me thinking i was the shit. I could talk about their divorce. The letter i found in a box in my room at my dads house when i was 13 that my mom had written to my dad asking for the divorce, i could talk about how insecure my mom had been in their relationship, how much she hated that he couldn't put a picture of us in his office or tell the guys that worked with him that we existed.i can tell you about my kindergarten best friend Sydney and how she plucked out all her eyelashes and moved in with my mom and i when we were 5 because her dad died and how she hid dead scorpions in my bed and loved Elvis and tried to give me a makeover once that ended in me having a groovy new hair cut and a hate for the taste of lipstick. I can tell you about my first dog Charlie, how he was my best friend, how one day i came home from a trip visiting my dad and he wasn't my dog anymore, he was someone else's and i didn't even get to say bye. I can tell you about my moms second marriage. His two daughters who became my best friends, Kayla my older sister at the time who would tell us scary sisters and is the ultimate reason I'm 18 and still afraid of the dark. Or Jordan who was a couple years younger and would cuddle up in my bed with me and our beagles we got for Halloween when Kayla told an extra scary story or made us ride our bikes past the house she promised us was haunted. i could talk about Savannah who I talked too when Kayla and Jordan were with their mom. I could talk about her older brother, how her and i would play hide and seek and he'd help me hide in his room, how the last time i hid in his room he didn't know, how embarrassed he was when he realized i was there, how he couldn't look or even talk to me after, even though 6 year old me didn't understand, didn't realize that he was watching porn, didn't even know what porn was or why he was mostly naked while he watched it. i can talk about how he stopped talking to me and locked his bedroom door whenever i came over after that. I could talk about the second divorce, how she couldn't handle the yelling anymore, all the nights i sat outside their room afraid of the dark listening to their voices, their yelling, Kayla telling me it was normal, they were only fighting because they loved each other. i can tell you about how she ran back to my dad, moved all the way to California. I could tell you about how he bought a new house for us, close to a school and a place for my mom to work and close to my cousins and how perfect everything was and how she destroyed it. how after a month of being there she ran back to her second husband and broke his heart. I can tell you about how it didn't work out. how we ended up back in California, this time for a year. I could talk about going to school with my cousins, being bullied by my best friend and about my grandpa going into the hospital. i could tell you about the weird family we shared a house with the summer before we moved back to Arizona, how the son had a poster on the wall of a naked girl that he covered with a poster of a white tiger and how he would steal my moms bras and hide them under his bead. I could tell you about the neighbor, the little girls who i would go swim with, the boy i lived with shooting marshmallows at us when he was bored. I could tell you about how we moved back to Arizona, how my mom met a guy and they started dating. I could tell you about Scott how he was fine at first, how he eventually grew to be someone i hated. I could tell you about how he sold my cat, and how he yelled at my mom and hit her and threw plates at her. i could tell you about when my grandpa died, and the Christmas after when i saw my grandma cry for the first time. I could tell you about the funeral, how my boy cousins reminded each other to stay strong and not cry, how at the dinner afterwards i jumped off a chair and my front teeth went into my cousins forehead. I could tell you about when i was diagnosed with type one diabetes, how i cried every time i had to take a shot and how i hated everything. i could tell you about going to one of the smallest schools in Arizona and spending 10 years there. i could tell you about my first kiss, my first love. I could tell you about my little sister being born. I could tell you about going to public school being in an unhealthy relationship and hating myself and everyone and everything. i could tell you about coming back. i could tell you about everyone that hurt me, all the decisions i made to make other people happy. i could tell you about being in love with a friend. i could tell you about everything that made me feel like i was nothing. i could tell you about all the problems i had with my dad and all the stuff that made me feel like i was everything. i could tell you about losing my best friend, losing someone that meant the world too me. i could tell you about all the heart brake i experienced, all the people who left and all the people that stayed. i could tell you about how i am finally in love again. i could tell you about how much the future scares me and how much i hate my mother and how my parents make me feel like i don't even deserve to live. i could tell you everything. But who cares?