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For my entire life, I've needed just to feel safeguarded. Safe.
You know, that feeling you get tunneling into a heap of covers on Christmas morning, encompassed by the delicate sparkle of white lights? I get that equivalent careful sensation when I leave onto the back porch and see Ralph interestingly.
I know it's him, since he's the main individual at the commemoration party I don't perceive. My stepfather despises Ralph, his sibling, and likely just welcomed him to flaunt the new house. It's undeniable now why my mom's significant other of one year can't stand his kin Ralph is all that he isn't.