ā¤ļø: So what are we doing?
šŖ: It's a trauma candy salad. You give a traumatic memory and then put candy in the bowl.
š: Why...are we doin' this?
šŖ: It's basic sleepover etiquette. Now somebody go first.
ā ļø: Ok, so...when I was 10, I lost my mom in the grocery store...?
ā ļø: And I brought the marshmallow chirps.
šŖ: Perfect form, Deuce. Ok, next.
š: Uh...Once, we thought meema went missin', but it turns out she was just in the bathroom all day. I brought the caramel cores.
šŗ: One day, my middle school teacher wore a really strong new perfume, and it made me throw up in the middle of class. I brought sour gummies.
š: When I was seven, my dad fell off a ladder, knocked himself unconscious, and I thought he was dead. I brought honey suckers.
ā¤ļø: When I was five, my brother held me over a pool of geese until I cried, and I brought the cherry licorice twists.
ā¤ļø: You're turn, Yuu
šŖ: When I was twelve, a grown man followed me home from the subway and tried convincing my grandparents to sell me to him.
šŖ: And I brought mango chews.
ā¤ļø:
ā ļø:
šŗ:
š:
š:
š: What the fuck?
āļø: When I was eight, I literally died. I brought crunchy clusters!
šŖ: See, Ortho gets it.
