One day, when I was in 5th grade, I came home from school and my Mom and Dad were both home. This was a rare occurrence because my dad usually didn’t get home until later at night. I knew something was up, especially because my mom was laying on the couch with her head on my dad’s lap, crying.
I asked them “what’s wrong?” And my dad told me to open the big manila envelope on the table sitting next to them.
I had no idea what was going on! When I looked inside there were thousands of cute, little folded up notes that I had been passing with my 5th grade best friend throughout the year. One note was left open, it was one that I had written. It said, “my mom’s being a fucking bitch right now and my stupid dad won’t let me go to your birthday party.”
My parents never let me go to any of my friends’ house. They thought their dads and/or brothers would rape me. I blame it on my mom watching all those movies on the Lifetime channel. So yes, I was often infuriated about missing out on everything my friends did outside of school and at the time believed that it made my dad “stupid” for not allowing my attendance to her party! And my mom was always a bitch. I just had no idea my words could hurt them so much. Or that they’d ever read them in the first place.
In 5th grade, we had those desks that you slid stuff in.
Unless you were really lucky, you got assigned one of the few you could actually close and open. My best friend wasn’t a lucky one.
During class, one of my notes that I had written her fell out of her desk. This spiteful little cunt, who I had never talked to before, saw it and decided that she could stick her hand in her desk when everyone left for lunch. My best friend had all my notes that she responded to during class time still in her desk! I guess she had no need to bring the notes home since they were already read and responded to. I don’t know why the cunt decided to give them all to the teacher but she did. We didn’t have the same teacher, fortunately, because her teacher read not just one but, a few of my notes out loud to her class. They were all meant for my best friend’s eyes only. I wrote bad words and bad things about so many classmates and probably teachers, too. (Never once did I write about that cunt though, so I still don’t understand why she turned them in.) All of the 5th grade teachers decided that we were no longer allowed to write notes at all. I wrote notes with so many girls in my grade and even to boys that I liked… I couldn’t believe we couldn’t write them at all anymore. They were my favorite form of communication.
I was so focused on wondering how I was going to still write notes to my friends without getting in trouble, I forgot to care that all of those notes were being sent to my parents. They actually mailed them so I didn’t see the consequences right away, the both-my-parents-home and my-mom-crying-thing happened maybe 2 or 3 days after the teacher read my note aloud. I was already writing notes again by then — I had already been planting my notes in the playground for my friends to find.
That’s the first time I ever saw my mom cry like that. My dad told me how disrespectful I was for calling him stupid and my mom a bitch. They didn’t even hit me, though… They were just sad. I never knew that I could make them feel that way. They were also upset about the swear words I used for every adjective, often for nouns, in place of proper nouns, and even as verbs. I wasn’t allowed to use such words at that age even though my dad’s kids he’s raising right now have been cussing since they could say words and he thinks it’s hilarious.
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