Wednesday, September 29, 2010


Sometimes I forget that I was once a child. It fees like I came into this world fully grown and on my own so occasionally I have to go back and look at pictures to prove to myself that I was once small and helpless.  Even with the photographic evidence I still have trouble believing.  How was I ever this small?  How am I still here?  How did I survive?

I'm the one in the middle with the slightly uncomfortable expression that I still catch myself making today.  Can this child really be me?  It seems like a different alien abduction.  Like a dream...a nightmare perhaps?

My mother and stepfather look so creepy in this picture but it's perfect because these are the expressions I see in my head when I think of them.  Always pissed off.  Always scowling.  Always angry or annoyed except for the occasions when they were extremely happy.  Those times were usually aided with the help of chemicals and always came with a price.  There was never any middle ground, never any calm.  Maybe my mind just leaves those parts out?  Huge chunks of my childhood are just....gone.  Missing.  Where did they go? 

I have so few photos of my childhood, but the ones I do have are so bizarre.  Here is another one:

I always remember myself being blond and everyone commenting on my blond hair and blue eyes, but I'm clearly not blond in these photos.  Perhaps it's the lighting or maybe this IS blond for the middle east?

I remember those red stairs.  I used to take the mattress off my bed and slide down them.  I would do it over and over again for hours.  I'd slide down then lug the mattress that weighed more than I did back to the top and do it all over again.  Occasionally I'd end up rolling off the mattress and getting trampled but those few short seconds of bliss, of feeling weightless and air-bound were worth the rug burn and bruises.