Expectations

Not that I have a lot of them for myself, mind you… well, okay. I do, yet I don’t.

Yes, that makes zero sense at all. Let me explain.

One of the weird things about growing up in state-run group homes for roughly 80% of your childhood is the lack of expectations they have for you. The very first home I was at a cranky staff worker lined us up (we were misbehaving or something, I don’t even remember what precipitated this) and walked past us and started labeling us one by one. “Dead, Jail, o...