Damp was never good
Damp was never good.
As I grew up, I learned that damp was never good.
No matter how much the monster scared you, make sure to be brave or youâll wake up in a damp bed. She will have to click her tongue and youâll be under the stairs again. You donât want that.
Always close your windows. I understand that it makes your breathing shallow and makes you drink a lot of water, but you donât want damp curtains. She will have to take the mop again and youâll end up with purple thighs and buttocks. Itâll be difficult to sit in class.
Always bring a pack of spare clothes. Donât go home with that damp shirt of yours. I understand that playing ball is fun, but she always said to not play with the âstreet childrenâ and that we are special, we have potential. Sheâll know if she sees your damp shirt, youâll be stuck in the library for the weekend and youâll be with your peculiar tutor again, teaching you big boy things.
Damp cheeks were the worst. Every time my cheeks are damp, my chest hurts and I feel like hurling, like i was punched in the gut. I would be breathing funny and it would feel like the air around me was insufficient. Damp cheeks were not allowed, every time I would have them, she would ask me if I wanted a real reason to cry. I never said yes because I was scared to find out.
I found my pillow damp this morning. I felt my eyes sting, my head hurt and this feeling of losing something. I canât eat the strawberry cake nor taste the chocolate-banana cereal I had for breakfast. I felt heavy, like I gained tons overnight and now I canât move. I wasnât purple and red, just purely miserable.
Damp is never good.
