I' am not a perfect person. I know this and have accepted it with open arms; I embrace the flaws I hold inside- buried deep within my self conscious. And right now, riding in the back seat of my father's old station wagon, I know the feeling that rages through my mind.

I'm livid. Well, I suppose that's over doing it a tad. I'm slightly peeved at my current situation. I'm not very adventures; I tend to stray away from change- Partly because it scares the crap out of me.

So it was a rather tremendous surprise that my father decided to up root our perfectly rooted and settled family from Nashville, Tennessee to Los Angles, California. He's a strange man, my father, but I love him and I know that everything will work out, eventually.

I suppose I should be tremendously proud of him. He stood up for what he firmly believes in. Working as the assistant pastor at our Southern Baptist church was a tough job, especially under Pastor Edwards.

My dad is a soft spoken man and doesn't think people should have the Bible shoved down their throat. He doesn't believe in standing high and mighty at the pulpit screaming out at all the "hell bound sinners" as Pastor Edwards once roared, spit flying and forehead drenched with sweat.

And that was the last straw, my dad quit. The next day in the newspaper there was an article about a woman by the name of Sandra Truscott who brought together her community and together rose over 10,000 dollars to send to a children's hospital. My dad was so moved at her strong will and faith.

The newspaper had another page devoted to this woman and all her achievements. It spoke of her husband Greg and daughter Lillian Truscott and how they work at homeless shelters and soup kitchens, it was unreal at how giving they sounded. My father was speechless, but what sparked the idea for the move was a tiny section at the bottom where Mrs. Truscott reflected on the loss of their beloved assistant pastor Robert Crane; and how they were still searching for another "pure hearted soul" to fill the place.

My dad prayed over this for many weeks until one morning, as I sat with my mom and brother Jackson at the table, he declared that it was time to spread the word and branch out. He made the arrangements and spoke with the church. My dad made many trips down to Los Angles, after they gleefully accepted him for the job, to find a house.

I've only seen the new house twice, once from the photos my dad took his first time down and the next over winter break of my junior year when the family drove out there to sign the papers for purchase.

I feel bad for not being as excited as the rest of the family about the move. It's not like I was leaving too many friends behind. Honestly, I've only had one friend… although I'd call her more of a well known acquaintance. She liked hanging out with me on Sunday and Wednesday nights at church but other then copying off my paper in English class, she hardly spoke to me.

Actually, now reflecting on my life in Tennessee, I had no life at all. I always seemed to be held back by my bashful character. Which was never my fault to begin with; my disability always slapped me down.

Trying to find a more comfortable position I twist around in my seat. Jackson is bobbing his head to his CD player while my parents sit up front and laugh over the old Elton John song, "Bennie and the Jets." I smile at the people around me. I suppose I should be happy. My family is alive and well and my dad has a new job. Things will work out, I've got the entire summer ahead of me before senior year starts up. It's time I find who I'm supposed to be and do in this world.

I'm ready.

"We're here!" My dad cheers pulling into the driveway, "Isn't it great?"

My mom nods as she stretches, "It's beautiful, and look a view of the beach now that's something I could get use to." The two of them smile and share a quick kiss before my dad pops the trunk and we being to unload.

"The moving trucks should be here soon." My dad reports as he sets down a box in our new living room.

I take a look around, it's not bad just… different. The house is very open, many windows line the walls and the ceiling is nice and high.

"So, what'd you think, Miles?" My dad asks throwing an arm around my shoulders.

"I-I …l-l-like it." I say slowly pronouncing the words with great care. My dad kisses my head and smiles down at me.

"You'll see bud; this is going to be a great change for us. A brand new start." He squeezes me tightly before running off to help Jackson with the boxes. I watch my mom wave in the movers as they begin to take out the kitchen wear from the trucks. I take another look around and sigh. A new start…

……

Author's Note: Very short, but in the future I'm planning on much lengthier chapters. Paper Cuts is still going, have no fear, I just felt like talking in Miley's voice today. Also, if you're the kind of person who likes themes in their stories, the theme was the first sentence- goes for everyone. If the feeling suddenly evokes within you- please do leave your thoughts. (Also, I suppose now everyone understands the title, correct?)

haha169-No, it is not Oliver. Please do read my author's note. Thank-you.