Lucky enough to have been blessed with the gift of life and a great pair of parents, it has
             recently come to my attention that I was introduced into this life tailored in diapers and I'm
             going to leave it the same way. Maybe a life in diapers is how I'm meant to live. Maybe a life
             in diapers will insure my survival. As sad of a discovery this was, I've learned to accept that a
             life in diapers maybe isn't as bad as I once thought.
             I began life seventeen years ago and right away I was equipped with diapers. Always
             depending on my parents, I couldn't do anything for myself, except for breathing. I didn't know
             much then and I had to rely on my basic instincts, which were to eat and sleep and even that I
             had a hard time to do myself. From carrot pudding to pablum to warm milk, my parents were
             certain to give me proper meals. They not only fed me, but they bathed me, sheltered me,
             clothed me and made all my decisions. Could I be more co-dependent? Thankfully I had
             trustworthy parents since they've kept me alive until today.
             We're now in the present where nothing I seem to do is for myself. Who wakes me up? My
             buzzing inferno (a name I've adopted for my alarm clock). Since I need help to wake up, it's no
             surprise I need contact lenses to see. I'm now reminiscing and I remember that my social
             science teacher once told me that the universal bond humans share is insecurity. With this is
             mind, I come up with a personal theory in which I believe I will forever be co-dependent
             and wear diapers due to the fact that I, as a human, am insecure. As much as I want to live
             an independent life, I keep on with my day and I realize I might as well tie on my diapers once
             again, my parents are still taking care of me. They cook for me and provide me with what I
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