What really gets me now?  I fear coming home.  Right now, I am typing this in the library.  Why?  Well, to blog post my thoughts, for one thing, and I do need to do some things that are better done with the faster connection of a library network.  But I want to forestall coming home and seeing My Fucking Father's fucking face.  He did say that he knew I wasn't going to listen to him, and I'm not.  But there really is no telling what faces me once I get home.  Will he have moved out my stuff?  Will Mother be at the front door with a pamphlet for an apartment she checked out today?  Fuck, I don't know.  And unfortunately, I'll have to find out soon.