Living in Storybrooke, I’ve got my son and my parents, and I love them. But they can’t always understand me. They don’t know what it feels like to be rejected and misunderstood. Not the way I do. Not the way YOU do. And somehow that makes us- I don’t know, unique. Or maybe even special.
“Remember in, like, fifth or sixth grade? I was starting to get really good at poker, and going home with lots of lunch money? I got to know the principal’s office really well. He always used to say to me: ‘How come you can’t be more like your brother, Peter?’ But you know what? I was alright with that. I had no problems with that because I was proud of you. And I was never envious of anything that you had. Until now.”