02.

Except that's not true. I kind of have an idea of what I want my life to look like.

I think I want to write.

Can't say for sure, but I think that's what it is.

I definitely don't want to end up like my sisters:

Not Peyton, with her perfect Christian husband and three kids-- she's only 29 but she looks 39.

Not Carson, on the brink of death, sick all the time and taking care of a toddler and a deadbeat husband. She's only 21, for God's sake.

Not even Andie, the most grounded out of all of us (she takes after Peyton). At 17 she's the youngest, and since the rest of us are screwing everything up she has the whole world on her bony shoulders.

Mom says we were the most beautiful kids. All of us naturally blonde, there's a picture of us on the mantel back home in white dresses with sunshine in our hair. Peyton and I used to be super close-- I was always kissing her face or she putting dandelions in my hair.

Everything is different now.

I'm pretty sure we hate each other.