Diary Of A Parasite

The Beginning

I don't particularly recall most of my childhood, but there are bits and pieces I seem to remember. Although, the timelines are jumbled. Let's say my first memory was when one of my Great grandparents passed. I remember sitting in the church, getting ash rubbed on my forehead. The Church is small, I think it can only seat about 30 - 50 people. I remember placing roses on the grave with my parents, red and white roses. I don't remember whose funeral that was, but at that time, they were both gone. 

I remember having conversations with my Great Grandfather, although I don't remember what they were about. I remember seeing him around my city, and telling my mom that he was visiting. One of the times we were chatting, he and I, were in my great aunt's kitchen- she's on my mom's side of the family. The weird part about it now, is that my mom claims that the two didn't know each other. My Great Grandfather was on my dad's side of the family, I have never met my other Great Grandfather. 

I remember always having a terrible sleeping pattern, even as a kid I would wake up at all odd hours of the night- my twin brother claims that I used to sleepwalk. I guess that is just who I am as a person. 

A prominent memory I have of my father is that he would go down to the basement when we were 4, as kids do, we would follow him and watch him. He would reach into our ceiling tiles and take pain medication, my mom says he only did that to keep his medication away from us, but I don't believe her. Another time I remember is that one time I got a bad spider bite, we were outside with my neighbourhood friends in our backyard, and I guess I got bit. My dad laid me on the couch and tended to me. There were other times too, he would always have an orange crush, and he would always share with me and my friends. In my childhood home, we lived just in the river valley, and our neighbourhood was just below a hill. On top of the hill, near a highway, there was a McDonalds. Dad, my twin brother, and I would always walk up the hill, which would take us about twenty minutes or so, and get food. This one time when we were trying to get food, Dad stepped onto an ant pile- a red ant pile. He wore nothing but sandals and shorts that day. I don't know where to place this in the timeline, but he also worked as a security guard during the nights at our local Casino. He would come back as we were just waking up, and gift us with junk food. One time my dad took me to the hospital, I forget why, but he helped me steal a warm blanket to take home. My last memory with him in that childhood home was when Mom and he broke up. He threw our family computer and monitor down two sets of stairs, and punched a hole in the wall. We were poor, and couldn't afford another computer. 

I believe we stayed in that house for two years, but I don't remember much of what happened in those two years. One time I cried so hard my nose started bleeding, my mom rushed me to the hospital. Another time, I was so excited to go to the local Carnival that I sat on our trampoline with my best friend and painted our toenails. One other time, Mom and I went to garage sales, I got a music box, and my twin brother broke it. Another time, I went to the park that was just across the street from my house, my older friend who must've been two years older than me, maybe three, asked me to walk her dog with her. So I did, but I didn't tell my Mom- so I got grounded. She locked me in my room with a baseball bat and jump rope, that has to be some sort of trauma. On her behalf though, I will defend her and say that my friend and I got chased by a creeper in a truck. At that house, my brother would always climb trees, but he would always fall out of them and cry hard. I always laughed at him, after seeing all of the bruises on his ass. Speaking of trees, one time my older sister and I tried to plant an apple tree in the backyard of that house. It never grew, or at least I think it didn't. 

So then we moved, my mother put my brother and me into my Dad and Aunts care for a while as she moved everything we owned to another state. I cried really hard on the drive, the four-hour drive to wherever my Dad was. I remember I would always cry to go see him, but as I finally got to see him, I wouldn't want to leave my mom's side. As much as it hurts to say, my Dad was simply a stranger- and I envy those who got to be in his life, and see who he was as a person, for I couldn't. I don't remember much of that time.