A good one?
I remember in the *** grade there was this girl I hung out with. The only girl in my brand new class who didn't hate me and try to fight me or make me feel like shit. I'd go over to her house after school and just play. He family was so nice, she was so nice. I remember playing cricket in her hallway. Once we almost broke the light and no one even yelled at us. It was fun. That one sliver of a good memory. Surrounded by loads of bad ones. Like I can't remember he name, probably because I only spent half of that grade at that school. Because my father was too psychotic to keep his shit together and my mother was too cracked out to prevent my father from moving me around the world. Someone asked me if i was an army brat. I wish, then at least i'd have a reason why.
That thought sparked yet another memory. My toad, Mr. ToadyWoady Wartface. I fed him crickets back when I wasn't scared of bugs. It was fun, my mom was scared of that thing. I went away to camp one summer and brought him back bullfroggy friends. I visited my dad one weekend, and in those 2 days my mom had managed to kill all my bullfrogs and let toady escape. Yay mom, shinning moment for her.
So much for that good memory.