Let's start off with an easy one... I was somewhere around 6 or 7 years old. I went to the store, like an auto parts store, with my parents. There was a metal roller skate key chain where the wheels actually spun around. I wanted it really bad, and in kid terms it was meant to be mine. I needed it to make my life complete that day, of course. I asked my parents to buy it for me. The pleases and whines of an adolescent always end up in the positive, right? Well, not this time. The answer was a swift NO. I wanted it, needed it, desired it, craved it. I spun the wheels in my hand with ease. The cold metal fit perfectly in the soft flesh of my palm. It was meant to be mine, I knew it. When we got to the cashier, I still had the skate in my hand. No one was paying attention to me, so I slid the perfect skate into my pocket and put my head down. I didn't look back as we walked out of the store. If I had looked, they would have seen the guilt written on my forehead. By the time I got home, the fear was gone. I escaped to my room where I was free to play with my skate. I rolled it across my dresser, my floor, the bed frame. I was lost in the playfulness of my new favorite toy. So lost, that I didn't hear the door open and notice my mother watching me. I got the wrathful glare of both parents as I sat at the dining table being lectured about theft and taking things that are not mine. My father took me back to the store, made me apologize and pay for the stolen skate. I didn't want it after that. It was a tainted artifact that I could not look at, let alone hold without feeling my horrible guilt. I hid the skate in my dresser underneath piles of folded clothes and never looked at it again. I hated everything about it. Worst of all, I hated admitting to my guilt. Because of this, I have a severe issue with returning things. The guilty feeling creeps up on me every time I have to take back an item. Not saying that I've stolen more and had to return it. Just the initial feeling of walking up to a cashier and asking to take back what I once wanted. I get so nervous that I'll find a way to never return anything. Doesn't fit right? I'll give it away. Doesn't work? I'll try to fix it myself. Hate it for whatever reason? Hide it and never look at it again until you do a charity sweep of your whole house. I don't think that anyone knows I have this problem.
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