My parents couldn't settle on a place to live.

This is what I told my therapist the last time we spoke.

I suggested this to be the cause of my inability to make friends.

It wasn't that I was bullied or anything, it's just that nobody ever wanted to talk to me.

I blame my parents for that.

I also blamed them for my insecurity and lack of self-esteem.

I remember waiting for my dad to finish eating his dinner when I was young,

which he normally ate alone in front of a television,

because right after he would sit there,

chilling time waiting for one of his favorite crime shows to begin.

That's when I could ask him about a new commercial that I saw or how I was learning to play the guitar,

and they got me for Christmas two years ago.

With only three strings left and no clue that you could change them,

I thought that guitar should have to be replaced as soon as the strings run out.

I remember his look toward me.

The look that showed me that he wished that I could go away and that he didn't care.

Mom was usually in the room talking on the phone with her friends.

My parents didn't like each other very much,

so I didn't feel too bad when I tried to do something to relieve them from each other's pains.

You see, when I was even younger, one of my cousins from out of town stayed with us.

She was supposed to be moving into a new house with another set of parents or distant relatives.

For obvious reasons, I wasn't told the truth about what happened to Gabby's parents.

...