memoir: i'm seven years old, and i'm the biggest asshole on the block, but i had no idea at the time. it would be a few more hours before i unlearned my family's bad habits. but for now, it was my birthday. my parents took me out to breakfast with my grandparents who brought a box of day old doughnuts, the twice yearly visit from these two people who my parents hated so bitterly. the feeling was mutual. my grandparents hated them back, my mother for marrying my father, my father for being such a disappointment and marrying my mother who was a loud, opinionated, drugged out mexican. after breakfast, we head back to the house and my parents lead me to the back yard. all my schoolmates shout surprise and i jump in shock. it's a pool party. i would have one every year until junior year of high school when people stopped showing up out of fear of my family. i hated the pool, i was pudgy, insecure even at seven because my mother made sure to tell her children that no one likes fat kids. i eventually stopped asking to do something else, because my parents didn't see the point of going out when they had all this fantastic entertainment right here. so there i was, surrounded by friends and i notice someone out of the corner of my eye. it's the unpopular kid. he was loud with a snarky child star personality that he emulated from some shitty disney show, and everyone treated him like scum. in my family, when you didn't like someone, you told them and actively hated them. the hate they would provide in return justified your behavior. at some point during the party, disney kid, obviously thrilled to be invited anywhere, approached me and wished me happy birthday. my response was, "what are you doing here? i didn't invite you." his smile disappeared, and he stayed away from me until his mother picked him up. we never really became friends despite sharing schools, friends, and most classes until the end of high school, and i still see him occasionally. the look of sadness in his eyes still haunts me.