My Childhood

My parents are divorced. There really isn’t anyway to say that differently because that’s what they are. To simply say, they are complete opposites of one another. Politics, lifestyle, diet and personality are all in conflict with one another, and I really am at a loss of how they ever procreated. When I tell some people that my parents are divorced they think they have the right to pity me, but what I don’t understand is how they think my parents still being married would make a situation better. As it is, I not only get to observe and participate in two entirely different households, but also understand opposing viewpoints.

At times I long for one to be the other or to be in one location over another, but that just means is that I get a better understanding of what homesickness means. Life is not so kind as to give us everything we want, but it is the conflict that arises out of such situations that leads us to knowledge the world as to offer. It is from this knowledge that leads to our own personal growth and I am thankful for the differences my parents share as it forces me to think for myself, a complete separate entity from either.

This is the introduction to a story that I will break up into 3 manageable bits and will post a few days after one another.

Why cannot I not sleep tonight?

The full moon is disturbing my sleep tonight. It glares at me, lighting up my face in the darkness. Nowhere else does it shine; just on my face, keeping me awake. I have more than the moon on my mind as I stare out the window and see the glowing orb hovering in the night sky. There are commitments that I’ve avoided, hoping that they’d go away. And then there is the future as it waits ready to snap off a limp or two of mine just because. Yes, the future is a dangerous place, but we cannot do a thing about until it becomes the present. How I cannot wait to overcome the future and make its present into a glorious future: my victory. I will do this, like I always do, because when the present is done it becomes history, written solely about me. And how my victory of the future will become a wonderful history. That is, if I could only get to sleep. Reading, counting sheep, etc. etc. Nothing but sleep escapes me - beyond my grasp and just behind the threshold. It taunts me like a maniacal transient. And so, I write. Writing away my anthem and declaration of things that have yet to come to pass, but torture me nonetheless.