Love, Rice, and Cyanide:

The year Henry and Charlie gang raped my innocent family is the year everything went downhill. I’m staggered that actual needles didn’t end up in the bowls of rice that was the closest source of nutrient that my god damned brothers and sisters and I ever received in our short lives, because I know that my mother was in another universe when she claimed that every spoonful was filled with endearment.

I guess at a young age I was amused with the box of Cosmic brownies, hand sanitizer, and plastic toy car left in the Dollar Tree bag that lingered under my Christmas tree for a few weeks. Most likely because all that bitch ever fucking had the money to afford to purchase us was fucking rice.

“Maybe it’s a new Barbie!” My sister exc...

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