When I was 8 years old I told my mother about a boy I liked at school. He had blond hair and was wicked good at four-square. At recess if I was it, he was the only one I ever tagged.… READ THE REST
I was 6 years old. I told you I didn’t want to ride the bus. You said it wasn’t up for discussion. I begged and pleaded. I cried and pulled my hair. You were unaffected. I threw myself on the ground and vowed never to speak to you again if you made me get on that bus.
I live in a nice upper class community. The type of place where you can go for long walks and wave to Randy while he throws ribeyes on the barbie.
In my neighborhood is a lesbian couple. At least I assume them to be lesbians.… READ THE REST