Okay let's get serious. My mom...my young down to earth artist realist of a mother. She doesn't believe in love, fate, marriage, and she doesn't believe in the normal. Because both my older sister's dad and my own walked out on her, and she's never cried over them. She just moved on to another guy. Because guys are like bubble gum to her, once their flavour is gone...who cares if they leave. And judging by my older sister Kiley, she follows those beliefs to a T. "Men are disposable" she says. Both of us have only seen pictures of our fathers and she says that's good enough. But it's not...I want to know...I want to at the very least to meet him. I guess that's where our differences end. Men are disposable to me too...or they were. I never cared about them, they were just sex tools. Humans who gawked and flirted, and when they got what they wanted they were gone. I was used to that...wasn't I. When did I start caring so much? When did a guy ever mean so much to me? And since when did "love" fall into my gravity?
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