Yeats ago your father died when you were eight, and your mother had to take care of you ever since. You’re now like, twenty one and still living with your mom and you are not going in the right direction. You barley took showers, Slept all day and when you sound though we’re getting drunk at Parties. One day your mother decided it’s enough and kicked you out.

So there you were, banging on the door and yelling to let you in. You heard her mutter, “I’m sorry, Love..”