In my heart I've never left home. I might have considered joining a commune as a teen. But my parents screamed at me to continue education and at 18 kicked me out of the house. Then they sold the fucking thing and moved back onto the boat as soon as I left. I think it was that last party I threw. Only one that ever screwed up. Mostly they went well. This time we made a terrible mess. Sloe gin all over the fucking place. I know the asshole who did it too. While I was sleeping. I don't think it was personal; he was just an asshole. Wow, was mom mad when they got home. Fucking stains wouldn't come out of anything so mom just sold the place.
Anyway, I came home from college during that first break and my house was gone. Tricky parents.
Actually they docked at the top of the strip in Lauderdale. I had the best parking spot for spring breaks when Lauderdale was the hot spot. It was pretty cool.
I never wanted to leave home. I only left because they wanted me to be on my own, as good parents do, I suppose. But I don't like this. Never did and still don't. Now they've left me for the grave until the end of my life. And I miss them every day. Sometimes I just wanna go home. Only now there is no home. I never cared much for being out in the world on my own. I do it, but I don't like it.