imagination

I’ll leave this one to your imagination. I want to confess but I don’t want to admit.

My friends don’t care what I did, most of them, but my parents would care if they knew.

I probably won’t ever do it again but I don’t regret doing it once. Well, ok, this morning I’m feeling a little sorry. For myself but also for doing it.

It didn’t hurt, not too much. I wasn’t scared. Nervous. Anxious. Maybe a little scared.

It wasn’t fun, but I didn’t expect it to be. I just wanted to get it over with. Now it’s over with.

I’m not going to talk about it with anyone. I’m also not going to talk about what I really wanted to do, not what I did. My friends would probably care about that.

The sun is up. I’m still me. Time to go to school.

 

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