I was not a normal child.

This is, obviously, the only focus of my stupid memoir. But I have learned a few things!

--I cannot compare myself to other people. Comparing anything is a bad idea.

--My Dad agrees that I was not a normal child, but thinks my brother is. (Considering my brother used to kill grasshoppers in the spinning wheel of an upside down bicycle and feed their headless remains to the dog, I find this almost insulting. Almost.)

--I was always bitter and lazy.

--A lot of things don't make logical sense in my memories.

--I hate it when people ask me, "Where were the DHS? The social services?" as if these case workers can just come out of nowhere and save the day all the time. They simply were NEVER THERE.