So what if I'm a fuck-up here, what does that even mean in the long run? I don't belong here and I'll never belong here. I don't even want to. The whole goddamn planet can blow me, I'm not from here. And if that means that I'm a friggin' xenophobe, fine. So be it. Whatever. As always, I have nothing to lose and there has to something better out there for me than Roswell, New Mexico. My mantra. So let Max have his delusions of teen love and angst, I just want off this damn planet. I just want out.

Is it so bad to want to go home? What's not to understand about that?

I will admit that there's a chance I may be too reactionary, but it's hard for me to think any other way. My whole life has revolved around reaction and I don't really know that I can function any other way. I've always had to watch my own back, there's never been anyone around who was gonna watch it for me. They had each other, and yeah, I know I'm bitter. You would be too. Even if it was your own fault. But all this shit has been stirring around inside me for so long, ready to bubble over the top at any time.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry; but not really.

Should I say that if I had it to do over, I would do it differently? Because that would be a lie. One changed move and there's the possibility that we never would have found the key. Fuck we -- I would have never found the key and we never would have gotten to any of this. Never is an awfully long time and whatever we've learned is so much more than nothing.

Christ, how can they not understand that?

Look at the math, science boy. I break into Valenti's and I find the key, the key spurs on the flash vision of the dome. Key plus dome equals Atherton. You would have read that piece of shit book and learned nothing, I put it all together in one allegedly miscalculated move. So screw you. The way I look at it, a little bit of less than legal sneaking around is worth this small step towards home.

God, I hate that damn word, home. It brings the nastiest taste to the back of my throat. Home. Can you taste it?

They all have so much to lose. People they care for, a family that has always been there to love and support them, the fear of being found out for who and what they really are. And what do I have to lose here on Earth? My only fear is spending the rest of my existence here on this damn planet and never knowing any of the things that they do. Because I never will here. How fucking sad is that?

So if it takes a bit of breaking and entering, grand theft auto and a half kidnapping to get my ass home, I'm more than prepared to take that risk. Any risk. In the end, it's always about that, isn't it? Well, in the end, if the benefits outweigh the risk by even an ounce, I'm going with the benefits. One step closer to knowing ourselves is one step closer to home. One step closer to my figuring out who the hell I am and what the hell I'm doing alive at all. It always comes back to my need for home.

Even she understands that, I didn't think anyone ever could.

Maybe she's the only one. I always thought that if anyone could understand me at all, what I want and why I want it so bad, it would be Max and Isabel. But they've proved too many times over that they just don't get it. Their plush, little lives have made them soft. I know that they care about me, but they have never understood. Everything that they have that ties them to this miserable place, I've never had. They must know that at least, they must be able to see it for themselves. Look at my fucking house, for christ's sake. Look at the man who pretends to be my "father."

Even that Maria, for as much as she'd like to pretend that she's afraid of us -- of me, even she seems to comprehend why. And the why is the most important part. At least for me. Maybe we're not as different as I'd like to think.

So if I seem completely opposed to everything and my demeanor is less than settled, then I'm doing it right. Why create and solidify ties to a place that I will one day leave? No one ever deserves to feel the sort of empty abandonment that I have felt since before I can remember feeling. That aching hole inside me that keeps me remembering is the same place that forces my hand every time.

And I will leave this god awful place. I know I'll eventually find home. If it seems like I'm obsessed, well maybe that's because I am. I have this fantasy of a place in the sky where I'm not so outcast, a place where I have a family that cares for me and understands why I've struggled with every minute of my existence to find them and who are glad of it. They will welcome me into their outstretched arms. I'm not welcome here and I never will be. Fuck you, I'm not from here.

Why try to act like a human other than to hide what I really am? With all of my fuck ups, the secret is still a secret, so I must have some handle on all of this. Surely I've fooled everyone so far.

But one day, and I will hold fast to this belief forever, one day there will be no more acting for me, and no more secrets. I won't have to say these lines and play this damned role. I won't have to pull away from interpersonal relationships and pretend that it doesn't hurt, and I won't have to continuously lie. I don't really want to lie.

And I don't want to be here.