It would be a note telling myself that when my sister and I were in Memphis for the summer, when my grandmother's neighbor asked my Aunt Lee if I was the boy Jean (my mom) adopted -and Aunt Lee saw that my sister (5 yrs old) and I ( 8 yrs old) were listening, and she said "Ssssh!" to the woman, and when my sister and I went running back to our grandmother's house to call my mom to ask her about it, and she said "That woman don't know what the hell she's talking about. We've been enemies since we were kids and she's still stirring up mess. It's a lie, it's a lie!" And I believed her.
Knowing what I know now- and only because my nephew asked me have I ever met my real mother, and I found out I was adopted when I asked my mother what my nephew was talking about-
When I asked why there were no baby pictures of me, or any pictures of myself under than 2, my mother said that they got lost in the move. We did move a few times when we were younger, so I believed her.
Now, I don't believe anything anyone tells me. Especially from people who love me.