anonymous confession number 1
When I was very little, my parents fought. They would scream and yell and slam doors. My mom would get in the car and drive off, while my father would find a way to keep the anger alive. I was scared, and I was sad. I would hide away in a dark corner of the house until I fell asleep. Somehow, I always ended up in my bed.
I needed to find a way to feel happy. There weren’t a lot of option for a seven year old, but I found a way. I stole money from their wallets. A dollar here, a few quarters there. I took this money and bought something sweet from the Good Humor man.
I don’t like ice cream anymore. That, and I am lactose intolerant.