Ice Cream
I grew up in complete poverty right here in the United States of America. There’s a myth that even our poor people in America are actually rich somehow. I would say it’s a false food. I would counter with my own experience, I live through the grinder that is poverty in our country. Poverty in our country has an edge to it, sort of viciousness that you don’t find another places.
Somehow it’s worse being in poverty amongst so much wealth.
I miss my little sister. I didn’t realize how poor we were until my sister balled, she shed tears of sadness because mom couldn’t give her $.35 to get ice cream, and she just wanted to get ice cream like the other kids. She couldn’t be clean like the other kids. She couldn’t be healthy like the other kids. She couldn’t smile or fucking be happy like the other kids. She couldn’t even goddamn have ice cream.
I’ve cried about that ice cream 100 times maybe. You’ll never see me do it. I’m crying about it right now.
I have a very real fear that I’m gonna go to hell, because no matter how hard I fucking try I can’t forgive my mother for what she did to us. I just can’t forgive her for the selfishness. I’m trying you guys. This part of the confessing. I swear to you, and I swear before our father, I’m trying with every fiber in my being.