it's almost criminal.

This actually needs a disclaimer: all material written here is how I feel.

So, I've come home to my parents' house to find out this, my childhood home, is no longer the home that I once knew. My parents are in the process of renovating the house. It looks good, but it's not what was comfortable. The shitty shag is now hardwood. There no sense of comfort, because our cluttered bedrooms are now similar to hotel room minimals. The only few items that remain are a few of our old teddy bears on the beds.
They're so unhappy with each other. I think it's safe to say that they both fear and hate each other. There is no communication. We're all connected, and yet disconnected at the same time. I can't speak to them. And it kills me.
So it became blatantly obvious that Philadelphia is now my home, and that I have to offically start the rest of my life.