Blurred lines.

Eccentricities, we all have them. Me, especially. As I sit here in the home of my youth and family, I hear a slammed door, a muffled yell, a silent spell. The wall between two rooms is thin. Slightly scared, I hesitate to go investigate. Getting in between those two is a rock and a hard place; I've taken that road, now I stay far away. Who wants to be cursed out for a peace attempt? The negative vibes have my house in a stronghold, the tension is thick and obvious. I sit and try to remember. I have a penchant for cleaning; when I am in familiar surroundings I feel incredible urges to straighten things and tidy up a bit. What do I make of this? Unable to relax, sit still; powerless and indecisive; I am uncomfortable most of the time. Even now, I have a stirring inside whispering that in precisely an hour and 30 minutes my parents shall return. So if I desire a smoke, which I most certainly do, now is the time to go. Alas, I am going.