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Saturday, May 26th 2007

20:39:41 (4896 days, 4h, 53min ago)

Eight Years Old

  • Mood: Recolective

Snow is cold, a fact that is even more previlant when at only eight years of age you run uphill in a furious storm wearing only socks. Despite the challange this presented to a boy of my age, and of such a kind and loving demeanor, I had to trudge on, it was late november and my food supply had run out. My only chance was to make it to the Main St. Bakery before they could empty there dumpster.

With my carbs running dangerously low, and with mere patches of cloth clinging to my body in wet piles, the risk of developing hypothermia was quite real. Holding my exposed rib-cage to try and conserve body heat, I quickly decided that i had one and only one chance of survival breaking and entering.

Though i have never been proud of commiting a crime on US soil (theres a few in mexicano that are just hysterical) I can't help but be impressed by my ingenuity in this crime. Upon Colapsing on the side of the road about 3/4 of a mi from the bakery, i realized i needed despretely to raise my core temp. I quickly scanned around me and witnessed the last car in a drive way abandon it's nicely trimmed two door garage. Acting purely in desperation I approached the dweling with the hopes that the door had been left unlocked. No luck was on my side in this matter and the door was securely locked and bolted shut.

Feeling my extremities begin to numb, i new it was only a matter of minutes before shock would absorb me and my consciousness would fade. Wrapping what was left of my shirt around my elbow i thurst with all my might through a window at the rear of the dweling. It broke rather cleanly and I gained entery to the residence. What i found inside however was the greatest gift of all. The gift of renewed life. After collapsing into the fetal position for a period of time indeterminable, i gradually began to feel human again. Quickly i searched for sustance in the form of food. And in this venture i was in luck, a loaf of french bread which must have been left over from a meal the night befroe was only half eaten on the kitchen table.

I'll never forget the first reliving bite. The way the minute pores of the bread collapsed between my chattering teeth, how the grain bits were especially envigorating, and the whole thing seemed to disapear in moments.

This is how i became addicted to a life of crime. Luckilly i had unknowningly picked a family which must of a child of my size since upon inspecting the contents of the rest of the house i was able to find a chest of draws practically overflowing with clothing. This was like my first christmas, and it came nearly a month early. After this i began to hone my B&E skills to a science, I would camp in a thicket, or a grove of trees near a residence long enough to determine just what treasures the familys home might hold. Since i was constantly in motion (being homeless tends to lead to this) I found it easy to evade detection. Plus i was stealing very low budget items, just enough to live on and maybe slightly more so I'm sure the heat was never really that hot anyways. 

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