Apparantly, according to my mother, the house we lived in for the first 19 years of my life got torn down recently. It's really weird to think that the place where you spent your entire childhood suddenly isn't there any more. In fact, I can't even comprehend it at all.

I should go back home sometime. I haven't been back since Christmas, now. But I don't think I'll go back /there/. Some things are best left the way you still remember them.