(no subject)
When I was 6 I craved attention. When my parents were too busy I would cry. But what one might call a brat, another might call a needy child. At dinner, I’d hide my extra pieces of chicken under heaps of rice, thinking my mother would never know I had not eaten my protein. Before school, at breakfast, I’d have a glass of that disgusting orange “Tang” drink, Rice-crispy treats cereal, and a purple Flintstones’ vitamin. One morning I wanted to be big like my brother and try and take a swallow vitamin, but my parents said I was too young. So, I tried to swallow my Flintstone’s one. I felt it stuck in my throat all day and I fretted it would be stuck there forever. At school, I threw chairs and books at my soon to be best friend. Our dreams and wishes were so similar and so pure. I never knew that in a year I would move to a whole new town where I’d need to find another best friend to bicker with. We only went back to Yonkers to go to the Westchester county Fair every June. Each year represented a new ride I was old enough to go on.
To be continued.
Gem
To be continued.
Gem