I don’t remember my friends, but I remember I had them. We all had a certain delight in catching butterflies in nets, then releasing them into spiderwebs and just watching. No one knew but us. My mother avoided me, and my father was usually consoling her. Sometimes I thought they hoped that I’d get in some terrible accident while they weren’t watching, just so they could be rid of me.

The years get hazy as they progress forward, but there are certain events which remain crystal clear despite the ravages of time. One such instance… was with a homeless man. His name was David… my brother’s name.

He lived behind the 7-11, and often had conversations with the other teens in the area. People made sure he was well fed, and tried to get him into a shelter, but he insisted that if he were to rise, it would be on his own two feet. But his name was David…

I gave him a salad one day. The dressing? I mixed it into vinegar to disguise the taste.

Was it so wrong to want to clean his insides with bleach?