axel

::eight::

Point of View: north

[Tongues on the sockets of electric dreams

Where the sewage of youth drowned the spark of my teens

And I knew that the lights of the city were too heavy for me (too heavy for me)

Though I carried karats for everyone to see (everyone to see)] {Golden; Fall Out Boy}

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My first memory of my parents, really my first memory at all, came when I was just four years old. It wasn't in this house, it was in another one, one we lived in for the first eight years of my life until we moved for my parent's job.

I was four and at the time, I was an only child. My mom was pregnant with my oldest sister, Stella, at the time. But for that moment, I was still the only child, still the only person that was really important in my parents' lives. I was the only person they had to care of when they were at home, the only one they had to make sure they fed, and watched over. At least for a little while.

My first memory is my mom, screaming actually.

Hey, I never said it was a happy memory.

Anyway, my mom was screaming and screaming because she's afraid of heights. And for whatever reason she decided it would be a swell and solid plan to go up into the attic to get some boxes.

This was back before we inheritated all that money, so we were living in an average sized house. And when my mom stepped on what she thought was a rafter, it wasn't. She went through, and is standing there, with one foot through the ceiling screaming for my dad.

To this day, she won't go anywhere high unless her job makes her.

And so when I stand at the sink getting a glass of water and see my littlest brother, Ford, about to jump off the deck, I flip out.

I run outside and yank him off the railing and bring him in kicking and screaming. "What were you thinking?" I scold him, locking the door behind me.

He pouts, "I was thinking that I was playing Leap Frog."

I throw my hands up, "With who, a giant?!"

His little nostrils flare and I decide to let it go. "Don't jump off the deck please."

He rolls his eyes and goes to play with Rain who is in the living room.

I wonder sometimes if I would be scared of heights if my mother wasn't.

I wonder if our fears are ever really our own. We say, "Oh, I'm afraid of snakes," but are you afraid of snakes, or were you influenced by someone who was afraid of snakes?

If my mother had been scared of toilets instead, would I be too?

Take for instance, the other day one of the little kids yelled, "Help! I'm claustrophobic!" I ran into the room, and one of the kids was sitting on her chest, and wouldn't let her up.

The thing is, she shouldn't have even known the word "Claustrophobic". How did she even know the word, or that it was an actual fear?

Oh, I don't know, maybe because my dad is claustrophobic?

We are scared of the things our parents are. Because as children, they are our heroes. They fight the bad guys, and they aren't-shouldn't-be scared of anything.

As soon as they admit fear for something, we freak out. If they're scared of it, that means they can't beat it, which means we should be scared too.


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I was thinking about my fears as I walked home from the skating rink last night. I was thinking about the shallow fears. Heights, spiders, quicksand, stuff like that. But as I got closer to home, I started thinking about the deeper fears.

The ones no one ever wants to think about.

And I guess I was thinking about it because I was thinking about Noah, and how she didn't have her parents, and about how that's one of my deeper fears.

I began to wonder what it would be like to have your worst fear come true.

You worry about it and worry about it happening, and then poof, it happens.

I was thinking about this all the way up to my house, and when my hand fell on the doorknob, for some reason an idea came to me and I realized what I wanted to make my movie on.