This weekend was parents’ weekend at my college. It was very weird to say the least. I had become very used to being on my own. My mom and stepdad came Friday night, and it was like I had never left. I had a ton of things to tell my mom, but that was nothing new. I’ve always been able to talk to her. Then on Saturday my dad, stepmom, and two step brothers came up to campus. It was so weird because (and this is no secret) I don’t have the best relationship with my dad and stepmom. I have very bad memories of when I was forced to go to their house a lot. I’m not going to go into details, that’s something for a different post, but I swear I was surrounded by eggshells the whole weekend.
My dad and stepmom did everything they could to look like the picture perfect parents, right down to showing up all decked out in clothes that bore my college’s name. They had brought me a bag of snacks and a new shirt. They took me to a park and the five of us walked around and took pictures and talked about nothing. The talk couldn’t have been smaller. I felt like a child from a family portrait come to life. Everything felt so fake and forced. I didn’t know how to react or what to do.
There isn’t much of a point to this post. I’m now realizing that I don’t know what to feel or think about last weekend. All I know is that when I don’t write things down, sometimes they cease to be real. I put plastic and paint over memories to make them look nicer. If I don’t write things down, I doubt myself.
Speaking of writing things down, I’ve never really known what to do with my poetry and stories. I just kept writing and writing them. I think I’d like to compile them into a book. I don’t imagine being published or anything, I think I’d just rather like having them all together. That being said, I wouldn’t be opposed to trying to get such a collection published. I wouldn’t have any clue where to start (if any of you do know, please do share!), but I know that it will never happen if I never try to make it happen. It would be a lot of busy work hunting down all my poems and stories, so it could take a while, but I think it’s worth it. Even if I’m the only one to ever read the thing, I think it would bring me some peace to have all these demons, memories, and fantasies stitched together.
Let me know what you guys think!
-AcuteAnimosity
AcuteAnimosity 