Broken Boulder the sweet far thing

In a rare moment of non-resentment, Taylor almost feels bad for Ico. Almost can't bear to look at him anymore. He feels pulled apart by horses. He shakes his head to erase the thoughts, but he knows they will regroup, a swarm of vengeful insects.
I was born in the fall. In a forest. I forgot the name. My mom, she would always tell me, you didn't cry at all. Not even when you hit your head or lost your milk teeth.
Mom sounds weaselly, squeaky, irritating. It's a good impression. She deserves less.
My dad, he was the tall one of the family. I mean, I look just like him. He'd always say, I'm busy, I'm busy. Just a second.
Dad sounds reedy, thin, anxious. He doesn't exist.
My brother, he would tell me— let's try this, Taylor. —I mean, he was, an interesting guy.
Brother sounds, well, he sounds like Taylor.
He's very smart. Scary smart.
Oh, what the hell. This is getting too close to the truth. What was it about Ico, and his stupid flighty eyes, and his stupid permanent slouch, his prettiness—
I left because I wanted to see the world, he lies. I'd just learned to hunt, and to fight, and I ended up here. And I met someone... Merrick. A boy with one eye. Taylor fidgets with the hem of his sleeve. More and more, the acting is getting easier. He wonders if he is really being himself, right now. More and more, it's getting hard to tell. And then I met you.
Another long pause. 
His voice is softer, thoughtful. You're looking for somewhere to stay put, right?