Every kid I knew who was an 

only child

wanted a sibling of their own. They would tell me they wished they had somebody to play with always. I'd never say anything back to them because I knew it was wrong, but I wished I was an only child.

Sharing a bedroom with an older brother and a younger sister made it so I rarely had a moment alone. There was always some conflict happening at worst, and at best I felt socially drained. This was probably why I took many walks. It was the only time I was guaranteed a snippet of time to think my own thoughts, without having to watch myself through the eyes of my siblings. Without having to think up replies for their questions and answers.

I don't know when I stopped wishing I had been an only child. Maybe I never grew out of that desire and instead simply came to realize that it was a selfish one to have. If we learn that something is 

ethically

 wrong, do we actually ever rid of ourselves of the unethical desire? Or is it just a story we tell ourselves to be morally compliant?