"Well before that, where is my journal album?" I ask him, re-directing his own question. I will get my stuff back from the girls soon, where the heck were they anyways. Was I really so horrible, if I am, then they are about the get a full smack of my own sas.
He go up my bed and ran to what I assume to be his room, he came back not even a second latter, when he gave me the album, I asked him to get my portable picture printer, he gave it to me and I started printing pictures. I knew they became horrible memories but I loved having pictures of my life, my parents never had a single picture of me with them. I love pictures.
"To answer your question, he was a dear friend, when I moved to my dads pack he and I met again, he was with a date so he would't look stupid there in the meeting
