I don't think I've ever been. Not that I remember.

http://youtu.be/4Wff7W97PDk
You got, you got, you got to help me out. And I'll try not to argue.
No one, no one, no one likes a drop-out. Mistakes are hard to undo.
Don't pull me down, this is where I belong.
I think I'm different, but I'm the same and I'm wrong.

Play

It doesn't really matter what I prefer.

Lady, that happens to me all the damn time.

Everything.

Absolutely everything.

...

A whole lot more of the same, apparently.

wat

...oooh. Oh, man. A yacht...now there's an idea.

Not sure what I'd name it, but probably something along the lines of 'Knot Again'
Or just 'Déjà Vu'

I never understood what the fuck that's supposed to mean.

My family home as a child.

His mind had been far too much of a mess to notice. Otto was certainly many things, but observant was not one of them. Especially when the thief was overly stressed, which was more often than not. At least lately. After a time, his impatience won out and he angrily put out his last cigarette in the dirt, put on an obnoxious pair of sunglasses, slung his backpack back on and stood.

Both hands shoved in their respective pockets, the man wheeled around and began trudging back to the apartment. While he walked, he thought. And it occurred to him that perhaps he had just been going about this whole thing wrong. Perhaps he just needed to be a little bit more tactical about this, like any complex job he'd pulled off in the past. Thievery was all Otto was good at. And when he really put his mind to it, he could be great.

When he got back, he'd hit up one of several stolen computers tucked under the bed and go to work. Soon, he'd come upon a fairly local place that was a sort of sanctuary for pregnant teens. Having a game plan made it simpler for him to give into fatigue and turn in for the day. And for the first time in a while, he'd cling to Yvonne while he slept.

...

Pah!

I think it would be best if I don't ever breed.

The throngs of enthusiastic shoppers, carrying around far more money on their person than they typically do.

As time dragged on, Otto would get more and more impatient and agitated. By the time the sky had begun to lighten, there was quite a number of cigarette butts strewn around that he'd carelessly cast aside along the short path he'd been anxiously pacing while he waited.

And much of that time, he spent questioning himself. Questioning what he was doing. Stealing an object was one thing, but a baby? Could he really tear a newborn baby from its mother's arms? But each time, he'd just need to run his fingertips beneath his shirt and over that dreadful scar to assure himself that yes, yes he could. It was certainly better than the alternative. But when the night was beginning to wear thin, the thief began to grow alarmed. How much time would he get to do as instructed? Was it worth the risk to wait another day?

That's when his attention was wrought in the direction of the sudden commotion not too far away, taking a deep breath in while weary eyes stared forward, his thoughts drifting curiously. Then the man's brow furrowed and he shook his head as if to shake any related thoughts from his mind, returned his attention to his latest and dwindling cigarette, sat down cross legged, and seriously pondered going back to the apartment.

...

I think so, yeah.

I suppose from an outsider's perspective, but not from mine.

Cigarettes and regret.