You’re 12 years old. It’s your birthday. Write for ten minutes on that memory. GO.

Photographers, artists, poets: show us RECKLESS.

My 12th birthday: God, I don’t remember it. I probably should but I think I’ve managed to block these memories. I had just moved to the Sates so that’s probably why. I didn’t speak the language and I had just finished the 7th grade. As if being the new foreign kid, I was also going through puberty. Thank you parents for not talking to me about it beforehand. I loved waking up in a pool of my own blood and not knowing what the hell was happening. 

Back to the topic. I don’t remember it or most of that horrendous first year here, because thank God for my ability to block certain memories. If I try really hard then I think it would have gone something like this. In the hot Texas summer, my twin and I wished each other happy birthday at midnight. We must have watched a movie until the wee hours of the morning until our parents yelled for us to go to bed. Since it was summer, us kids didn’t have much to do. In the morning, we just chilled at home. We probably slept in until late afternoon. When we woke up, we might have continued watching TV, played some sort of board game, a sport. There might have been cake at the end of the day. No gifts but then again, my family isn’t really the family for gifts. In America, t’s a bad habit not to have learned in the past. I keep forgetting to get gifts for various occasions. Now, as an adult, I’ll just get a card and go to dinner with person but nothing more unless I know the person really well. Even then, it’s iffy on the gift portion. Although I will say that I’m getting much better at it.

Don’t you just absolutely love this awesome reckless story?

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