His name is Sam. You come home one day and he’s lying on your couch, his bag propped at one end. You don’t know him but he seems at home. You ask him to leave. He smirks.
“Make me.”
My cat bites, drools, and constantly steals my side of the bed — and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
My parents do not believe in punishments. I have never been grounded, or had my phone taken away, or had to do extra chores. I've never been spanked. Yet, I'd say my parents managed to raise respectful, disciplined children. My mom believes in the power of natural consequences.
My friends called me Trunk.
No one ever explained why the thinnest, shortest of us was called Twig and why the spindly dancer was called Tree and why I, with the slightest bit of chub on my cheeks, was called Trunk.
12 years old and I knew. I knew why I was called Trunk.
People say Van Gogh used to eat yellow paint because he thought it would get the happiness inside him. Truth is, he wanted to kill himself.