R – Rabbit hole

Seven years old.

It was crowded but the pleasure was all mine. Nobody noticed me. I was surrounded by a hundred people and they were all doing their own thing. Nobody looked my way. It seemed like the perfect time to pull something mad because this thrill of doing something even when people are around has what filled my childhood with stories of getting caught so many times. I felt a mad rush making its way up my stomach. I could have stopped it, I didn’t. Then I was seized by it so I had to do it. I undid my earrings, the ones it took so long to put on in the morning, and I flung it across the hall. I didn’t regret it because I didn’t know why I did it. I still don’t. I knew how much those earrings meant to mother. She repeatedly said that it was gold. Not just to me but to every god damn passerby who bothered to stop. look, exclaim, ask and invite more people to peer at my ear holes and what covered them. But that’s not why I threw it. I felt a mad, almost sadistic pleasure when I threw it. I haven’t thrown earrings after that but I continue to maintain simple pleasures like doing things forbidden and I take extra effort to do it around people.

Does this have anything to do with my pica disorder?

 

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