As a child, I used to hope that something horrible would happen to me.
I was not sado-masochistic by any stretch, I just wanted to be a little darker….a little more tortured. The kind of thing that when revealed to a cute girl in my class, would make her reach for my shoulder to comfort me, at which point I’d calmly brush it away and say ‘You can’t help me, I’m messed up, Okay?’ This is of course would only stoke her desires. She’d feel an instant connection to me and I to her as we shared my dark past.
I secretly wished that my father would hit me, that my parents would die in a car crash, that I had an incurable disease, that I would be kidnapped and held for ransom in someone’s basement, that I had survived an attack from wild animals, that I had spent years in correctional facilities for manslaughter, or that I would find out that I had been adopted.
Anything that would leave physical or emotional scars.
But alas, nothing ever did.
There was some shouting and the occasional punishment, but as it was I lead a mostly charmed life in the suburbs of Orange County.
Jonah on the other hand was thrown overboard during a storm and swallowed by a giant fish.
He must’ve gotten all the chicks.