Dear younger me,

you worked so hard to never ever get in trouble. you had a staring problem; you always stared straight into the eyes of strangers. you fixed it, or tried to, and then you couldn't make eye contact at all. your teachers always asked if you were sad or angry, but your face just looked that way. so you learned how to widen your eyes, how to hold the muscles in your face differently, so that you never look abrasive, so that nobody could ever confront you over your emotions again.
at that point you were only in preschool...
my life now is different. it is not such a naive life. but it is a fair life. I
i am experiencing repercussions when I mess up. i am glad for this. it makes me feel as if there is someone out there, or something, who is trying to keep me clean. the issue is that sometimes people tell you to wash yourself, but instead of handing you soup, they hand you a handful of dirt. that is, people expect you to be clean but they treat you so rotten that it would be a miracle to be clean. sometimes i am in somebody's arms and a think "i wish i could be anywhere but here". i miss the cleanly innocence you felt.
i wish you hadn't cried so much the one and only time you were sent to time out.