When my brother was eight he got mad and decided to run away. He packed his little yellow backpack full of his favorite toys and a t-shirt, and he went downstairs - He stayed for two hours, halfway through dinner.
last night I had a fight with my roommates, packed my backpack with the essentials and a bagel, and I ran away.
my brother was still in trouble when he came back upstairs, and was also in trouble for running away and missing dinner, even though my parents were trying to suppress a laugh during the whole lecture.
I came back, but no one is talking to me. I told them both I was sorry etc, but that doesn't fix anything at all.
I think I should have learned from my brother. He was eight, I'm twenty-three.
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