My family's pet dog went missing and we later found out she was hit by a car and left on the side of the road. We found her two weeks after she went missing. She was emaciated and in desperate need of a care. We took her home right away to assess her situation. Without a hint of grace, she snatched the drumstick from the plate and wildly picked at the meat. She was so intesnely preoccupied with her hunger that she didn't notice the gravy dripping down her face. The dressings placed over her wounds began to seep and she scarfed her food. Our girl was sweet as pie. She died two days later.

The lights turn on. The noise cuts off. My blood turns cold and my stomach slides so far into my body it feels like it might explode. My fingers go numb and I want to scream. Everyone is staring at me and I feel an enormous sense of injustice as I react or over-react) to any slight I feel against me. I feel small...and utterly worthless.

One of the worst things I've ever done to my mom was trying to run away when I was thirteen. I honestly attribute this to a lot of my later problems in life and think of this as the forking-path, where I was presented two choices and either would greatly determine which way my life went afterwards. I day dream alot about what my life would have been like if I hadn't run away, maybe I would have died if I actually made it to California like I planned... but I can say with one-hundred percent certainty, the reason I would change this particular moment is because I am a mother now. I feel every pain I ever caused to my mom when I see my innocent little girls face light up when she sees me come home and I think, "how could I have wanted to take that away from my mom." So, I guess if I could change one thing about my past, I never would have taken my moms love for granted.