@aidenmally

February 6+

   I can't say how it happened because I never asked. I was birthed in a hospital in either Collegville or Pottstown. But I was shortly raised in Pottstown. Pottstown, where the worst moments in my life happened. But they weren't the worst because they were just bad. They were the worst because they were bad, but it was normal for me.

   The first bad thing I remember was a white house on fire. The cause is foggy yet the details afterwards are ingrained in my brain. It was hot, really hot. I ran and ran until brave red trucks with hoses made their attack. Yet even they were challenge by the wrath of the house on fire. A man with an accent did something that shaped parts of me that won't go away. With a single... random... hel..pful gesture..? I'm not sure what to call it. It was an Indian man with a child... he gave me socks. I was running away with bare feet. Uncommon.. yet still acceptable considering the situation. However it's not the gesture.. no.. it was what he said to me. What he stressed to be very important. He said "You need socks. Socks are needed by every man. God gave us feet to walk on Earth with yet they need be clean. We must clean them. Please take these socks." He gave me many below ankle socks with many colors. An explosion of wonder and question. An Aurora of the feet. It was from that day on that I cannot ever be without socks. That I cannot ever be without clean feet. That I cannot ever be without that picture in mind as I clean my feet and smile everytime.

   The next bad thing I remember is a vivid memory that I will not forget but always question the reality of. A dream or not a dream? It doesn't matter because it impacted me harshly, yet calmly. It was a kitchen of every other person's worst fear. A kitchen tightly infested with cockroaches. So tightly packed that you couldn't see the wall. Horrific yet I was unfazed. I was calm. It did not frighten me. For I knew that no matter the quantity no mere bug would ever attempt to harm a human. Excluding insects and arachnids, bugs are very harmless. They only focus on themselves, their family and/or their day. They cannot go as far as the next day due to their lack of intelligence. Yet again proving their harmlessness. I was too calm. My mother, at her worst panicking state, my father the same, my brothers nowhere to be found. In my mind that is. I walked into a floor of roaches and stood amazed as they separated and stacked to give way for my foot. It was otherworldly. I was not afraid of cockroaches, I was afraid of me hurting the cockroaches. All they want is to live, not to live on. To sleep, not to wake up. To eat, not to savor. Yet we murder them by simple disgust. Yet they are harmlessly living. I have become empathetic towards bugs. I have no fear of bugs.

   I remember the bed I slept on. A particular bed. A buggy bed. With bugs that love to sleep on beds. T'was a bed of bedbugs. Unafraid still, I slept. However still, I slept uncomfortably. It was easy to not be in a presence of bugs, but not easy to sleep with them. I can't describe the feeling as simply itchy. Because it was more than an itch. It was a bearable pain that you had to scratch. One in which no matter how hard you scratched, it never went away. I sleep still, uncomfortable however, but still asleep nonetheless. It made me sleep in any condition. It made me adapt quicker, and fall asleep quicker and cozier despite conditions.

  The last and final, yet certainly not least, memory was that of a single day. I was told it started with a phone call. One in which at the time, I didn't know about. It went downhill faster and faster. From my perspective I was told to simply "not open the door" by any means whatsoever. Despite who may be there. I was torn by those words and a very intimidating scene on the other side of a door being almost bashed in by a lady of unknown origins. I... was too much of a good boy. With... too much of a good heart. I opened the door of fate. On the other side lie an army of blue uniforms and cars of red loud noises. All so unfamiliar. I stand... too crushed between my decision of betrayal and the immediate result of my decision. A yelling mother behind. A forceful blue uniform in front. That forced me away from the only person I've never hated because of decisions that were made... at the time. Poverty, bugs, drugs, beating, abuse, fighting, medication, uncontrollable rage and behavior.. it was all I knew, all that I was used too. I was pulled into a familiar red car with a familiar dad and a familiar nausea. All while screaming words fill my head... "He's my son! You don't have the right to take him away from me!" Tears fall, words muffle. Screaming, panting. It took less than thirty second yet, I was already used to it. I had already subconsciously adapted. I was again, very calm. Too calm. I just.. watched.. in a daze.. with a straight face. I was moved to my grandmother's house. Where my two others brothers resided. And now additionally, me and my older brother now resided. It was then I played my first ever video game. Spider-Man. Yet it wasn't right. For some reason it was wrong. Something with the webslinging was incorrect. The webs shot into the air. Plain air, no buildings. Into the cloudy sky, not even attached to clouds. Yet he swings. Far and fast. I found that this made no sense. I was in preschool learning shapes, numbers and the alphabet. I was four years old at the time. I was four years old and understood the law of physics.