Read This If You Wanted Crutches As A Kid

When I was 7 years old, I wanted a broken leg. I fantasized about hobbling into Wentzville West Elementary School, proudly swinging my crutches through the halls. And that wasn't all. I also wanted a sprained ankle, broken collarbone, impaired vision, fractured wrist. If it was a handicap, you can bet it was on my first-grade wishlist.

This is one of those weirdly uncomfortable childhood memories I remember and then quickly try to forget. After all, the alternative is facing the frightening possibility I've been living as an undiagnosed sociopath for 26 years, and I just don't have the stomach for that. But in a moment of vulnerability, during a work meeting where we were talking about childhood bike accidents instead of, well, work, I let my twisted little secret slip.