Jute Sack

Chapter 1

I was four months old when I lost my dad, too young to care about any other face that was not my mom’s.

Blissful, blissfully, bliss, words I love using. They mimic the childhood I wished for, even when I was just a child. For as long as I can remember, I put on a brave face as if everything was okay even on days when they weren’t…

Okay, pause, let’s rewind a bit, this isn’t supposed to be a sad story. So I’ll start with the good…

I was a weirdly happy child, a little insecure and sad, but very happy and hopeful. I was never the type to have a 10 – 20 year plan, still ain’t but what I did have was the hope that all would be A Okay when I get older. On days when I was not following my sisters around, I would create stories in my head. They went something along the lines of; once I leave mom’s house, I will be happy and be the Benite I’ve always wanted to be, Lord knows what seven year old me knew about being who she always wanted to be. Ah yes, I didn’t know my first name was Laura, until I was ten, crazy right?

Anyways, I loved my weird self, even though I often felt lonely, I found comfort in realizing that I was cut from a different thread that my peers. I was the tallest in my class, had skinny long limbs and a lollipop head, thought I would grow up thin, let’s just say McDonalds entered the chat and the rest is history. My childhood was happy, but I cried so much I actually forgot about the fun I had.

As for the reason for my tears, maybe this will help paint the picture…

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