Autobiography
A couple of days ago my mother and I were talking about life, but mainly our (soup opera of a) past. For as long as I can remember my life has been pretty interesting and as I was thinking about this I thought that it would be a cool idea to write it all out. It's not quite like an autobiography because I will probably change the names and little things. I basically just want to pull from my memories and write a story on my life.
I wrote out a small opening chapter that I wanted everyone to read and edit for me. I want lots of opinions and let me know what you think of this whole idea. It's going to be a huge project for me and it'll probably take quite a few years but I want to go through with this. It seems like the perfect way to close off this chapter in my life.
Everyone goes through their own personal ‘hells’. Sometimes they last forever with no end in sight. Others…well, I don’t think there are any. Even though a person has dealt with a problem and put it behind them, that doesn’t mean it disappears. I’ve learned this the hard way. For the past eight or so years now my family has continually been fooled and tested and pushed to the brink of our limits. But each and every time something else happened to bring us back to square one…or at least a couple steps backwards. It’s hard to say just when everyone’s ‘hell’ really ends. Maybe it continues on throughout our lives and simply hides behind all the good moments, only to come back in full force. Either way, if it ends or not, hides away or not, I’m here to tell you all what I went through in my hell; good and bad.
I chose to write about it now after all these years because, for me, I believe this chapter in my life has finally come to an end. I might be proven wrong in a matter of seconds, minutes, days, or years, but that doesn’t really matter. Life is filled with so many unpredictability’s that it’s hard to tell just when one part of our lives ends and where the other begins.
Before I even began to write out anything, I had to decide exactly where and when in my life did this chapter of ‘hell’ start. At first, I thought it only began seven or eight years ago when my parents divorced and my mother brought her new boyfriend into out lives. But then I realized that problems just don’t appear out of nowhere. Why had my parents divorced? When did my mother meet this new man? It happened so fast that I’m beginning to wonder if she was cheating on my father with him. So with all these questions popping up, I decided that I needed to move the starting point. The only problem was that there was no definite date. I know I was young but I can’t name the month and exact minute that this ‘hell’ began.
So here I go, holding down the rewind button and watching the scenes fly by. It’s like a fuzzy projector as everyone sits down and gets comfy with their popcorn and beverage watching as unfamiliar people are moving around and in ways, backtracking in their foot steps, waving bye when the person is walking in the door. It’s a chaotic life. It’s my life.
I can’t promise that it’ll be a perfect, day to day reenactment. That’s not what memories are. Memories are imperfect, like the person remembering them. There will be blank areas and there will be memories that are too blurry to write about but the only thing I want readers to take from this is the fact that everyone goes through their own personal hells; no matter how extreme or mild, long or short.
I wrote out a small opening chapter that I wanted everyone to read and edit for me. I want lots of opinions and let me know what you think of this whole idea. It's going to be a huge project for me and it'll probably take quite a few years but I want to go through with this. It seems like the perfect way to close off this chapter in my life.
Everyone goes through their own personal ‘hells’. Sometimes they last forever with no end in sight. Others…well, I don’t think there are any. Even though a person has dealt with a problem and put it behind them, that doesn’t mean it disappears. I’ve learned this the hard way. For the past eight or so years now my family has continually been fooled and tested and pushed to the brink of our limits. But each and every time something else happened to bring us back to square one…or at least a couple steps backwards. It’s hard to say just when everyone’s ‘hell’ really ends. Maybe it continues on throughout our lives and simply hides behind all the good moments, only to come back in full force. Either way, if it ends or not, hides away or not, I’m here to tell you all what I went through in my hell; good and bad.
I chose to write about it now after all these years because, for me, I believe this chapter in my life has finally come to an end. I might be proven wrong in a matter of seconds, minutes, days, or years, but that doesn’t really matter. Life is filled with so many unpredictability’s that it’s hard to tell just when one part of our lives ends and where the other begins.
Before I even began to write out anything, I had to decide exactly where and when in my life did this chapter of ‘hell’ start. At first, I thought it only began seven or eight years ago when my parents divorced and my mother brought her new boyfriend into out lives. But then I realized that problems just don’t appear out of nowhere. Why had my parents divorced? When did my mother meet this new man? It happened so fast that I’m beginning to wonder if she was cheating on my father with him. So with all these questions popping up, I decided that I needed to move the starting point. The only problem was that there was no definite date. I know I was young but I can’t name the month and exact minute that this ‘hell’ began.
So here I go, holding down the rewind button and watching the scenes fly by. It’s like a fuzzy projector as everyone sits down and gets comfy with their popcorn and beverage watching as unfamiliar people are moving around and in ways, backtracking in their foot steps, waving bye when the person is walking in the door. It’s a chaotic life. It’s my life.
I can’t promise that it’ll be a perfect, day to day reenactment. That’s not what memories are. Memories are imperfect, like the person remembering them. There will be blank areas and there will be memories that are too blurry to write about but the only thing I want readers to take from this is the fact that everyone goes through their own personal hells; no matter how extreme or mild, long or short.