Mom and Dad always told me I was the adventurous one, the daredevil..
I always took the bottom bunk, closer to monsters and the evil under the bed while you were safe and sound, high off the ground.
I would climb the counters to smuggle out the gummy vitamins while you were on the floor looking up with that eager grin.
Before we went to bed, I would swing the closet door open to check for red eyes and tigers while you were under your covers telling me to hurry up.
I always walked first down the stairs into the dark basement while you creeped behind me.
I was on top of the giant, swirly slide at the park while you were at the kiddy slide like, “Hey, Mommy! Look at me.”
It’s not that I was any braver than you. I just had a better sense of reality. I knew that monsters weren’t real, and small risks couldn’t hurt me.
When we were new to school, I talked to random people while you stuck to a small circle of friends.
I knew people who could get me alcohol while you knew people who would come over to play COD.
I had boyfriends with cars who took me to parties and showed me drugs while you didn’t really give a damn about girls.
I was hungover and shaking on the way to school while you were just worried about getting a bacon-egg McMuffin before the bell rang.
At family gatherings, I was in the bathroom with a cut off straw and a pill up my nose while you were toasting a beer and laughing with Dad.
It’s not that I was any stupider than you. I had just lost my sense of reality. I knew that monsters were real, and small risks could destroy my life.
Mom and Dad always told me I was the adventurous one..