I was born a bug.
I am a new life.
The story of how I am growing into a bug began on a Monday in early January.
I was 6 weeks old, a little boy who was just about to be sent to the nursery.
I knew nothing about bugs.
The nursery was a tiny house in a quiet neighbourhood of Toronto, just a block from my own home.
I had to leave it to someone who knew more about bugs than I did.
I got there and the door opened, and the woman on the other side of the door said, “Oh, we have a little problem, and we can’t get it out.”
She gave me a bottle of water and asked me to help her out with the bed.
I started to put the sheets on, but the bed didn’t quite fit.
It was about two inches too big, so I had a hard time putting the sheets back on.
She said, you can come in.
She brought me over to the bed, put her arm around my shoulders and said, Come on, come here.
She was very kind, and I was very happy, because I had never been treated like this.
I have a pretty good memory of it now.
But it was very traumatic for me to say goodbye to my baby brother.
She helped me into the bed and I lay there for about five minutes, watching her put on her own clothes.
And then she said, Okay, I want you to stay here with me.
And I did, and then she told me that she needed me to take a bath, and that she was going to leave me there.
She took off her bathrobe and sat down on the bed next to me, and just laid down on top of me.
Then she turned around and started to wash her face.
I heard her say, Oh, my God, it’s so dirty.
And so, she took off the sheets and started going over the baby boy’s clothes.
I remember thinking, Wow, she’s really cleaning the bedsheets!
I had no idea that was happening to me.
I went down there and I looked at the baby, and he was completely naked.
I felt so dirty, and so embarrassed.
But he looked like he had been alive for a long time.
He had a little brown spot on his cheek.
I took a little bit of soap and rubbed it all over my baby’s skin, and it didn’t hurt.
But the bath was not done, and she was still going over my clothes.
She had the towel, and her hand was on the side of his face.
And she started rubbing him against the wall, and touching him in a way that was very touching, and kind of rough.
I just thought that was really strange.
She started to rub his belly, and this was really hard, and my mom went up and grabbed the towel and went, Oh!
I can’t do this, and stopped.
She went to the bathroom, and when she came back, she found that my little brother was not breathing, and they took him to the hospital.
He was just completely covered in soot.
He’s now a little older, and not as good at walking as he was when I first came into the world.
He has a lot of problems with his breathing, but he’s very, very happy.
I’ve been in and out of hospital many times, but this was the first time I was in the hospital and I didn’t have any issues.
It wasn’t until later that I had an asthma attack.
I don’t have asthma, and for a couple of weeks I was really scared of going outside.
I kept being in the same place, trying to do everything I could to get the medicine in my lungs, and there was nothing to do.
The only thing I could do was watch and wait, and pray that something would come out of it.
And nothing happened.
Then, just one day, my doctor came to the office, and said to me: I have this really bad chest infection.
He gave me some antibiotics, and told me to keep an eye on the baby.
I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
I think I was still looking forward to going to the doctor every day.
I tried to walk, but I couldn’t do it.
The next day I went to get some coffee, and on the way I ran into my mom, and asked her, I’m afraid I’m going to lose my mind.
She turned around, and saw my hand holding the towel up to my face.
She pulled it out and said I have to get out of here.
I did the same.
I ran home and I sat on the sofa.
I couldn’ t believe what I was seeing.
I told my mom what I saw, and all she said was: You’re right.
She got the towels and put them on my back.
I looked back