I don't even know why I'm writing this, probably because it's 2am and I can't sleep and my phone is the only light in the whole house and everyone else is asleep and it just feels so BIG in my head. Like, this thing I'm thinking about. It's really stupid and I know it is. I know it's messed up to even think it. But it just… it kinda pops into my head sometimes. Or a lot. More than sometimes. It's about my dad. Not my real dad, the one who left when I was little, but my mom's new husband. He's nice, really nice. He tries super hard, you know? Like, he takes me fishing and stuff even though I can tell he hates it and he tries to talk about my video games. He bought me a new Xbox for my birthday last year, which was WAY more than I expected. And my mom loves him. He makes her laugh. And they just had a baby, like six months ago. A boy. And I love him, like he's my little brother, obviously. I push his stroller sometimes when we go for walks, you know? Around the block, or down to the little park by the creek. And that's when it happens. When I'm pushing the stroller. Through the neighborhood, past Mrs. Henderson's house with the gnomes, and the really loud dog that barks at EVERYTHING. It's usually quiet, especially in the afternoon, after school. Just me and the baby, and the hum of the wheels. And sometimes, I just… I just imagine. What if I wasn't here? Not like, dead or anything. Just, what if I was somewhere else? Like, if I had gone with my dad when he left. He lives in, like, another country now. He sent me a postcard once, from Australia. It had a kangaroo on it. And I just think, what if I was there? Or somewhere totally different. Like, living in a big city, or on a farm in the middle of nowhere. Just, not *here*. And it's not because I hate it here. I mean, it's boring, sure. Everyone knows everyone, and there's not much to do. But it's home, right? And I have my friends. We hang out at the diner sometimes, or go down to the old quarry. It's just… sometimes, when I'm pushing the stroller, and the sun is all warm, and the baby is making those little snuffling noises, I just feel like I'm watching myself do it. Like it's not really me. And I think about my dad, and Australia, and what if I had gone, and what if I was someone totally different now. Someone who didn't push a stroller down this same street every day. Someone who didn't have to worry about school, or if my friends are mad at me, or if my mom is gonna cry again. And then I feel this HUGE wave of guilt. Because the baby is there. My brother. And my stepdad. And my mom. And I'm thinking all these really selfish, dumb thoughts about wishing I was somewhere else, like I don't appreciate anything they do for me. Like I'm a bad person for even thinking it. And I know it's messed up. I know I should be happy. And I am, mostly. But then I see a plane fly overhead, leaving that white line in the sky, and I just… I just wonder. What if? And it makes my stomach hurt, like I'm doing something really wrong just by having the thought.