What Have You Learned, Little Girl?

The heat is on... in more ways than one...

Another sleepless night. Mind forbidding me to forget skin, hair, foot and hand, lips, nose, eyes... dots. I try to make them all vanish inside an infinite array of black dot-like abysses, to be swallowed whole in a vacuum-suction-swirling of plaguing delights expelled from the covetous, ravenous heart, the fiendish clit, the ever-demanding ego that constantly needs to feed. Glutton. Pig. Got a tiny nibble of something not belonging to me, (can I say "borrowed" a bit?) and am salivating for more!...

I learned to thieve in the first grade. Self-taught, and quite prolific for many years. My first take was a Mr. Happy pencil box from Becky McCameron's desk, where I sat during math class. I didn't take it because I disliked Becky. I didn't take it because I loved Mr. Happy. I simply wanted it, and honestly didn't think I'd ever get caught. I brought it back to my homeroom, and carelessly let it dangle on the outer edge of my desk.

It was found. By another student, or teacher, I can't recall. But Mrs. Wagner, who already had it in for me, held me back one day as my friends went to lunch. She presented the box to me, questioned me with a sneer, and I lied (also self-taught, and quite prolific for many years). She then demanded I go to Becky's homeroom down the hall, return the box, and apologize.

On the walk down the hall, I decided I didn't really need to apologize for taking the box, so long as it was returned. When I reached her homeroom, I quietly placed the box outside the door, and bid my adieu to Mr. Happy. I lingered a moment (clever enough to know if I HAD apologized, it would take a little time, at least), and then headed back to Mrs. Wagner with a grade school-showgirl's smile, that I had done as she asked, and all was forgiven.

Until Becky and her homeroom teacher showed up moments after, with box in hand. Busted. I would have to do it, to say "I'm sorry." I didn't want to so badly that I cried... I knew I had done wrong, and was guilty, and afraid my mom or friends or other teachers would find out and think I was so bad. Was I so bad? Am I still?

I apologized to Becky through thick tears and heaving sobs. When it was all over, she gave me a hug and said "it's okay." I took a moment to blow my nose, and resumed the first grade with the rest of my friends, all unknowing, in the cafeteria below...

Skin, hair, foot and hand, lips, nose, eyes... I've been thieving them all as of late. Not because I dislike her. Not even because I love him. I just want him. So fucking badly...

The moral of the story is:

a) Never let the things you steal carelessly dangle, or you might get caught.

b) You know you've done something wrong if it would make you cry to say "I'm sorry."

c) Learning lessons from first grade will serve you well through life, if you really paid attention.

d) all of the above

e) none of the above;

write correct answer here____________________________