Tuesday, 24 January 2012
10:53:04 PM (GMT)
So today, I was watching some of my old home videos.
In one of them, I was like five and someone asks why it's bad to swear or cuss and my
response is, "Some people, like Indian people, they think it's bad luck to say a dead
person's name, and cuss words are dead words, so we're not 'sposed to say them."
And then there's one where my mom says, "Alex, show us how you go down the stairs."
And I just stare at her for a while, then I walk over to the stairs and tip over and
just fall down them. (Don't worry they're soft. Or maybe I was just a masochist. OR
maybe that's why I'm effed up now, head injuries? Yeah.)
And then I also pulled out my loose teeth with pliers. (Because I was afraid if I
didn't they'd fall out in my sleep and I'd swallow them and they'd rot in my stomach
and I'd throw up black blood.)
And I kept scabs, fingernail clippings, snake skin, hair, hermit-crab exoskeletons
and spiderwebs in jars so that when someone made me mad I could take a jar and dump
it in their bed or their purse or backpack or something.
Oh, and don't even get me started about the time I became a cat.
Or the time I ran away from home, walked four miles, asked a lady how far it was to
the ocean, was severely disappointed, then turned around and walked home.
And I had an imaginary friend named Emily who told me everything I did had to be in
even numbers, and to this day I still have to follow that.
Pfft. No one will read this x]