Oh, I missed the last part of your piece. Body burying, huh? There are a few people on this planet I’d bury a body for, without question, because I know them well enough to know that if there’s a body, they had no other option available to them than this, because if they had, they never would have chosen to end a life.

My kids, though…they’re just kids now, so if they brought me a body, I’d have more questions than answers and I’m almost 100% sure I’d contact the authorities. Few reasons would convince me to keep that under wraps. But, see, that’s because, even in theory, I’m thinking about what kind of people they could possibly turn out to be if I walked around cleaning up after them all the time.

And that’s the thing: to turn my own child in would devastate me in a way from which I’d never recover. It would be way easier on me and how I feel to make their mistake go away and pretend it never happened. I don’t lose my child to prison, they don’t hate me for ratting them out, and all’s well that ends well!

Right.

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.

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