When I was around twelve years old I was on a hut with my niece. Then a fly was standing on her leg and I said that it sucked her blood. The rest of the trip she was screaming every time she saw a fly, and nobody except me knew why..
When I was in the fifth grade I open mouth kissed my teacher, Mrs. Stevens, on the lips. She told me to go back out and play, & we never spoke another word about it. That seemed normal then, but looking back at it now, it seems kinda weird…
She never told my parents or my principal or anything.
I think she kinda liked it.
When I was younger I got stung by a bee on my penis. I chose not to tell my parents since it would be traumatic to talk about getting stung, than actually getting stung in the first place. I was super scared it wouldnt work properly, as it swelled up to like 3 times the size. Fortunately its back to normal and working like a champ.
Looking back now, I kind of miss my swollen huge dick.
When I was a child, I used to like to eat matches. I don’t anymore, but sometimes I wish I still did.
when i was about nine years old i started having ocpd tendencies about things i ate. no one could bite into something i was gonna eat. if my food had colors i had to have one of every color. if it spelled something i had to eat the whole thing else i felt incomplete.
such was the case with toblerone. as you know toblerones spell out the brand over as many pieces of chocolate plus an end piece.
my cousin decided to help herself while i was eating my toblerone (“didn’t anyone ever tell you to share?” she said) and a fire rose up from within me that as she was eating MY CHOCOLATE i started to rip the hair out of her head.
she started screaming and screaming until my uncle rushed up and got us away from one another. i explained what happened, fuming, and feeling horribly incomplete.
my uncle berated my cousin for not asking and after that she was a little afraid of me.
about fifteen years later i saw her again and she tried to pull the same shit with my m&m’s. i pulled her hair as a precautionary measure.
LEARN YOUR LESSON BITCH OR I WILL TEACH IT.
My family was so cheap that for the majority of my early teenage life, my parents would lie and say that I was 12 years old so they could pay kids prices at restaurants, carnivals, movie theatres etc. When I was 16, we were challenged for the first time at the movies and asked to prove that I was a kid with some sort of identification like a health card. My mom said “listen, she may physically be 16 but she has a mental disability so she is 6 years old in her mind, have a little fucking respect and decency”. I guess the ticket lady was so embarrassed that she apologized profusely and for the rest of the summer I got into that theatre for kids prices, no questions asked.
I grew up in an affluent town close to Washington, D.C. Everybody’s parents had money, were powerful, or were both. I shit you not, a lot of my classmates had godparents that were senators and CEOs and they would brag about it constantly. My family was not rich or powerful, but my parents insisted on living in that town because of the excellent school district that it was in. As a result, I was the poor kid and couldn’t compete with my classmates. I didn’t want to feel left out when they were all bragging, so in the second grade I told them that my dad was best friends with Andrew Lloyd Webber and that one of the characters in CATS was based on me. They got really excited about it and asked me which one, and since I had never seen the play and couldn’t name any of the characters, I told them that if they couldn’t figure it out, they clearly weren’t true fans and walked away. Why I picked Andrew Lloyd Webber to be my dad’s fake best friend is beyond me.
As a kid I was such a hypochondriac. There was a boy in my class who had appendicitis and I was so afraid I would catch it from him that for about a month I slept every night on my mom’s couch by the door, fully clothed & wearing my glasses, in case I had to go to the hospital.