I don’t remember anything before the age of twelve and I am only eighteen. To this day, all I can remember before junior high are two teachers names, a notebook, and how deathly afraid I was of a nice, clean, shower. It was my boogeyman as to some it was darkness or scary movies. And I remember every emotion in that shower; how I screamed from the inside out, “what are you letting this do to you?” And I grew to hate being clean. My dirtiness was my rebellion and I was the girl with dirt on her face and grease in her hair. And I haven’t seen the boogeyman in nearly six years. And I lie in my bath with a handful of wine and a book full of stories wondering about my childhood, having a strange feeling that it will remain a mystery to me, as to someone out there, it remains a secret.
Created: Aug 17, 2012alexandra18cruz Document Media