I Don’t Like Things

I didn’t learn to ride a bike until I was in 5th grade. I tried, every summer, but I just couldn’t get the hang of it (I suspect, in retrospect, this has a physical cause). Then, finally, I did. And I liked the freedom it gave me, but I never really liked it. I was always afraid I was going to fall. And, once I got my driver’s license, I don’t think I rode a bike again.

But I’m thinking of one summer, before I actually got it, when we were out on the driveway and I don’t remember anyone pushing me into practicing. Like neither of my parents were forcing me to ride my bike, but I remember one of them being behind me as I was on training wheels and I remember crying and them saying “You’re doing it, look, you’re doing it,” but I was crying too had to care. All I wanted was to get off that motherfucking bike and never get back on.

This is a metaphor for my morning.

One thought on “I Don’t Like Things

  1. One day I came home from work and very sincerely told my husband “I hate people. And things.” He laughed, but I meant it. So, yeah. It all sucks sometimes. Sorry.

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