So it's time for another confession session! I know I've been slacking on the journal writing lately, but hey! Aren't I always?
Today, I decided to do a confession session because I promised to do two a month. It's nearing the end of October and I've yet to write any confession sessions. So... yeah. Here goes it!
When I was a kid, my family wasn't in the best financial state. We were living in the ghettos of my city, pretty much. Life wasn't too bad, though, because I didn't know I was poor.
I lived in one side of a duplex. The other side belonged to a native family, and we didn't seem to get along much... or so I was told. I never saw them, at least not with a developed brain. My siblings told me that I would frequently go out to play with the daughter of the other family, but I have no recollection of this whatsoever.
The insides of the house were cozy if anything. There was not a lot of space, but we made the most out of what we could. The result was a place that I consider my true home.
For a while, it was there that I spent majority of my life. I say it was only for a while because, currently, I've outlived the years I spent in that house.
Anyhow, that house had a living room that was carpeted. It had one or two couches (I can't remember now) and a few desks and shelves and our one television. It was where I used to spend most of my day, as did every other family member I had.
Snacks were often brought to that room.
I don't know if it's worth pointing this out, but when you enter my home, you take off your shoes.
The living room, being the closest room to the front door, was often where people went first when they visited us. Lots of feet, with or without socks, have stepped on the floor of that carpeted room.
And let's not forget the crumbs of the snacks that embedded themselves within the floor when the eater wasn't looking.
Point is, that floor was probably not the most sanitary spot in the house. Heck, I'd even argue to say that it was the dirtiest, aside from the small gap between the oven and the wall, where food parcels would sneak in and rot.
Anyhow, it was because the living room floor was unsanitary that made me do what I did.
Now, what DID I do, you ask?
I licked it.
Yeap, my tongue made contact with that floor.
And the most disturbing part? It happened more than once.
See, it was like a ritual thing. Yes, that floor was sort of absolutely nasty. It took quite a bit of will power to force myself into licking such filth.
I would go to the living room, kneel down, bow my head close to the floor, stick my tongue out, and wham my head against the floor.
My tongue never picked up any food particles. At least, I don't think it did. sweatdrop
You might be wondering why I did this. Well, I don't have such a logical answer. Basically, I did it to prove to myself how strong my will power was. It was to test if mind really was over matter.
Let's just say... if was a reassurance of my guts.
Indeed, it was childish, but what exactly do you expect? I was no more than six years old when I did this.
So... yeah. That's my confession for today! I've got to start on my other homework. I have a unit project due tomorrow and I've yet to start. Ahh, how procrastination enslaves me. sad
Oh, and thanks for reading! And it it's nighttime when you're reading this, well then good night and sweet dreams!
Today's lyrics are:
And I've never went back trying to replace
everything that I broke till my feet went numb
Praying like a fool that just shot a gun
Heart still beating but it's not working
Guess and comment the song's title and artist and you shall be rewarded. yum_puddi
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