Dear Tara,
Our brothers used to play baseball together, so we ended up passing the time together. Remember? I spend the night at your house and we watched Mary Kate and Ashley. Remember?
If you don’t remember that, then you probably don’t remember the event that I’m actually writing to you about. Or you might… because you’re sick and twisted.
One day, during yet another little brother baseball game, you made some friends. I don’t know if you brought them with you to the game or if you met them there, but regardless, I was left out. Because I was only nine, I didn’t really understand the dynamic of cliques and when I wasn’t wanted until it was too late.
This sound familiar yet? Maybe the next part will trip your memory.
You and your new little friends, finding me an unwanted extra nodule on the group, looked to the big tree we wre playing near. I can’t imagine what went through your heads as you ripped a limb off the tree and proceeded to chase me, beating me with the branch. All I can really remember was that it hurt. A lot.
There isn’t really a deeper meaning here. No later-in-life scarring or anything. I just thought it was an awful thing that kids to that to each other.
Bri
