Sometimes I can’t tell if I’m hungry or if I need to throw up. It’s a weird place to be. This is what I think about when I can’t sleep. Read books about quantum mechanics and wonder if I should eat or throw up.
I asked for an illustrated copy of A Brief History of Time for Christmas and was given a brown ornament. I hate brown. I hate presents that don’t exhibit a knowledge of me. At the very least an ability to listen.
I hate presents [i love presents]. Once my parents bought me a Pocahontas comforter my mom caught me eyeing. I woke up the next morning covered over with it. That morning is the most loved I have ever felt by them. It’s remarkable how bold a moment can imprint itself on your memory. That had to be 15 years ago [depending on the release of Disney’s Pocahontas].
I’m grateful for that moment, along with the one where we blasted Roller Coaster of Love on loop for hours and sang and laughed and danced until our insides hurt. My two happy childhood memories. A few drops of salve on a body set on fire.