All things must start somewhere. Do I start when I was born? When I was created? Do I start when I began to realise my life was not the norm? My story doesn’t quite have an end yet, so getting to the point I am at now makes the beginning rather tricky. How do I start telling the events that led me to this space of perpetually functional disturbia? There are so many ways this could go wrong, so I figured I’d start with the obvious.
There isn’t a way I could be here without my parents. They did the deed that led to the creation of me. So even if I started at my birth, I would still have to include them. The foundation for the very core of me starts within them. So it’s as good of a beginning as any. Obviously all I know of them before me is what I can piece together from what I’ve been told. It won’t be rather interesting, but that’s due to no fault of my own. So if you find it a bit drab, please trudge on through. I promise the boredom of my parents’ beginnings will be swift, if not painless.
No comments:
Post a Comment