Happy Happy Childhood

I had a happy childhood. Didn't I?
I had food and clothing and shelter and love.
I had a brother, a mother, a father and a dog.
I had hamsters and hermit crabs and fish now and then.
I was allergic to the cat so it was sent away.

We collected frogs.
We listened to Elvis.
We slid down the stairs on a pillow.
We pretended to be adults.
We swam in the ocean.
We played in the snow.
We fought over bubble wrap.

We took car trips in the yellow station wagon with "wood" siding. We fought and played in the back seat. My parents put the back seats down, so that we had a flat area to lay on, stretched out, to nap or read.

There were no restricting, binding car seats then. Or maybe there were. Parents were just not as concerned about children's safety.

No helmets, no child-car-seats, no baby monitors.
We lived through it anyway.
A lot of us.
Enough of us.

Maybe subconsciously I believed my parents were trying to kill me and that scarred my soul.
I doubt it.

Maybe my mother's chain smoking affected me as a fetus, and the withdrawal symptoms, followed by constant second hand smoke, caused my brain and CNS to develop into the system of an addict, which I am.
Maybe she has nothing to do with it.
I doubt it.

Chain-smokers should teach their infants to smoke so that the poor creatures won't go through withdrawal!
Ok, not really.

I've considered chain smoking through pregnancy - I mean, if I were pregnant - so that the baby would be really small and not hurt as much during delivery.
I also think that if I am still fertile, I should be able to have babies and sell them on Ebay.
Right now the only limitation is a lack of sperm.

Plus, after nine months I might develop some affection for the parasite creature inside me and not want to sell it after all. And there I'd be, with no alternate financial plan, trying to support a child.

Ugh. Life.
Is bigger.
Bigger than you and you are not me.... la, la, la, la, la, la--------------

I had a happy childhood until I started therapy and realized how much angst I had collected about which to complain.
I had a happy childhood until I was encouraged to be angry about my parents' imperfections.
I had a happy childhood until it ended and I had to go out into the world unprepared.
At that point, in spite of all the schooling and therapy and achievements, I regretted leaving my happy childhood behind.