Imaginary

I'm Ingrid. Mama always said then what an overactive imagination I had. "Curiosity killed the cat," she'd say in her condescending voice that always reminded me of a swirly slide, but made me want to reach up and grab that stupid throat of hers and just kill the words at their root. I'm glad I didn't. I always was a little crooked in the head too. I didn't have too many friends, and Mama was fine with that. I did have just one, but she wasn't too real. So, when I did talk to Elvira Bea Kirsten, I would get a scolding, and there would come the hurtful words- "Can't you just be normal?" I could see that she was angry with my overactive imagination, and I did feel bad for her. All she wanted was a normal child, but then she got me. Now I've grown out of talking to Elvira. It makes my mother happy- I've grown out of that too. Calling her "Mama." I am 14 now, and I am starting to get really sick of life. Maybe if I hadn't had a mother like her- I used to feel bad for her, but now I realize that she is selfish. Sure, I was always different. But you have to be prepared for that when you're going to go around sleeping with 17 different guys in two and a half weeks- you might just end up with a baby. And that baby might not be perfect. "Curiosity killed the cat," she'd say. Maybe it did, but it also set her free.