My journey to diapers started when I was 13. I seldom had an accident. Often a mistake of forgetting, stress, you name it. But when I was 13, this was my last year of middle school and I fought my way past the bastards already. I was faint considering my near future. I never took kindly to teasing, and was usually lost in my imagination, dreaming about flying by colors in the chilled weather. Modest baby blue gradients resting in the sky. Abruptly pulled away from my thoughts to the attention of whatever noise others were making. So I was stressed out. Too young, so quite. I couldn't and can't stand for violence. The year was complete, the school was history, and my bed wetting was just beginning. I hid my now regular accidents from my mother, until I didn't. She's so tidy, and well kept she began investigating the smell emitting from my room. She grabbed at the sheets and unveiled the source. That fucking moment, will never be forgotten. I stood to her right, and waited. Automatically, our eyes meet and she said, "how long?'. I told her some few months. She hugged me (aware of the fighting I dealt w/ in middle school, dreading of high school, she did the math). And so the next day we ambled the brand new, town center, Target. Arrived at the incontinence isle, she grabbed the Depends pull on underwear, as I slid away in discomfort. I stood near the doors while my mother dealt w/ it all. Gesturing towards me, I spun left, pausing for her, and walked out, appreciating the design of the floor. Now 21, in college among varying hobbies, this still occurs nightly, and now daily. (24/7) For a different reason, but to this day. Diapers have very much become apart of my life and I just don't know what or If I should do anything about that. Maybe it's a sign, to disregard the minuscule, and try harder than everyone else to be were I want to be. Regardless of circumstance. And that, is my choppy story, feel open to tell yours. - Dylan.