I got lucky in my last two weeks at home

I finally got around to taking a shower and brushing my teeth before heading back to work, my days spent alone in my apartment filled with memories of the loneliness and isolation that my parents had forced on me growing up.

The first thing I remember after I woke up was a strange sound coming from my living room, a faint, muffled buzzing that sounded like it was coming from the kitchen.

The sound was my phone ringing.

I thought I heard someone coming into the room, but it didn’t seem to be a male voice.

I started to look around the living room to make sure it wasn’t my dad, but my eyes found my mom.

She was standing in the kitchen, holding a cup of coffee.

She looked like she was in her early twenties, maybe early to mid-twenties, and was wearing a black sweater with a white skirt.

My dad was sitting at a table in the living space, sitting on a coffee table in front of the fireplace.

The cup of my coffee was still in his hand.

I don’t remember if I had any inkling of what was happening, but I knew what I was going to do.

I quickly went back to my phone and dialed my mom’s number.

I asked her if I could call her, and she said yes.

She started to answer my phone, but then stopped herself and answered, “You’re late.”

She told me I could pick her up at the airport, and I picked up the phone and hung up.

I never called my mom again.

When I was young, I was very curious about the way people interacted with each other.

I thought, I should really go check it out.

I would go and meet up with people and maybe we could learn something.

I was always a shy person and I had been bullied in elementary school and high school.

I had never really been a social butterfly, and the only reason I ever went to the gym was to do cardio.

My parents didn’t want me to spend the money, so I had to do whatever it took to get by.

I did get some friends, and they were good people, and sometimes they’d just say, “I just wanted to come visit,” or, “We’ve got to go.”

I didn’t think much of it.

My mom had been a big supporter of my basketball career and had always wanted me to go to school, but her support was more about me playing basketball.

My best friend at the time was an NBA star named Chris Paul.

I think he got a lot of credit for having a big influence on my life.

I was the only kid in our school, so we spent a lot time around each other, going to school together, going on trips, playing sports, etc. One day, my mom came home and we were talking about basketball.

I told her, I’m never going to play ball in the NBA because I don-t want to get in trouble.

She told me, You know what, you should go play ball, and that’s how I started playing.

I just didn’t know how to do it.

I remember when I was a little kid, I used to hang out with my mom, and my sister, who was a big basketball player.

We would hang out and talk basketball.

We didn’t talk about anything serious, but we were always talking about football, basketball, whatever.

I’d always think that was just my imagination.

That’s when I started going to my dad’s house for basketball practice, because my dad had a huge hoop.

I didn’t even know my father played basketball, but he was the one who helped me learn the basics.

We had a big hoop, so he would bring us around, take a break, and then come back.

I didn-t really know what to expect.

We’d practice until we couldn’t play anymore, and we’d sit down for a while and then we’d play.

We started to play together, and it became this family game.

I just knew how to play, and at the same time I was trying to figure out how to get my own team, too.

I used the game as a way to keep myself busy and get through the week, because I couldn’t do anything about school.

My mother was so busy, she didn’t really see the point in going out and playing.

At some point, we started doing practice with other kids, and by the time we got to school it was really late, and nobody would show up.

We weren’t allowed to play at all.

It was really a weird time, because we’d practice in the morning, and go to recess in the afternoon, and all of a sudden it was a disaster.

I knew that if I wanted to play basketball, I had only one thing to do: Get myself into trouble.

I felt like I needed to play.

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