the past week and a half have made me think about how trivial material possesions are. not that I am materialistic, but I was taught never a lender or borrower be, and I get funny when people have my stuff, and I can remember where it all started:
it was a Sunday, I was young maybe 7 or 8. Me and my grandmother used to go to church and her husband Joe was a regular heathen back then and used to stay home. Well one particular Sunday we were coming home from church and company came by when we were out. There was a girl I used to like, I vaguely recollect, and her brother. There they were, in my crib, my room to be exact.
On the floor, spread out, coloring.
in MY coloring books.
I was gripped w/ a moment of WHITE HOT RAGE! sure, I liked her but we wasn’t cool like THAT!
have you no respect for another man’s property?
I was FURIOUS! ‘Joe, how could you let them in my stuff?’, I cussed out my stepgranpops mentally.
You’re breaking the Crayola tips! the Crayola tips!
Are they laughing at me, or with me? I’m not laughing.
For the love of GOD, STAY IN THE LINES!
Is magenta a skin tone? No, I don’t think so.
Just unforgivable. anyway, I made it through the rest of the afternoon and I got over it.
really, i did.