When I was a child, I lived with a grandmother. Three parents are living in a place farther along with my brother. I always feel envious with it, why she was living with the parents, but I don't. I hate it. At that time, I was too small, do not understand the rationale of the adults.When my grandmother died, my parents sent me to live with foreign diplomats. At the time, I often quarrel, fight with his brother. One day, fighting is done, my brother took the school beating up my hand. The right hand I snapped. I have to cast my month, and doing nothing is also difficult. In particular, I didn't write the article. In that time, my brother always interest me, asked me: "are you hurt?". But I'm mad at it, not talking to it. because I've always thought it hurt parents over meLater, when I was high. I grew more, understand much more, when I see my sister over and regret for not more intimate with him when we were putting the younger
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