Over the last couple of years, I have written little snippets here and there about my childhood and what a weird arse-hole I was. I don’t really know why, maybe it was therapeutic? Also it makes present me feel better about myself, because no matter how awkward and messed up my life is now, at least i’m not like that anymore. So I gift you now with a few of those entries:

“When I was a little kid I had a thing for a while where I would go up to boys, usually my older brother or cousins’ friends, and just knee them in the balls. I think my rationalizing was some sort of I’m-not-just-some-little-girl-in-braids-you-can-mess-with-I-can-make-you-feel-pain-too kind of a thing, but really, I was just an a-hole. But I’ve always had the personality type where I’m the quietest and most awkward kid in the corner right up until somebody tells me I’m not capable of something. And then I try to prove them wrong (while 90% of the time proving them right because that jar IS hard to open and I WILL hurt myself trying to flip on a trampoline and I CAN’T drive a plow without getting caught on a curb).”