Something Patchwork and F'ed Up

Something funky in the air or maybe it’s just me. Death and grit, grime and dirty needling into the hades of social interrelating, all pinnacled by a fire alarm going off first thing when I got to work yesterday morning. Anxiety.

Something I wrote last time caused a memory to come back. Back when my friend Jason told me he could see how I was like each of my parents, we got to talking about how people are created and why everyone is destined to be fucked up. The old opposites attract rule. Take my parents, for example: they are opposites. My dad is calm, quiet, practical, rational; my mom is erratic (though less so as she gets older), vocal, fanciful, irrational. Well, my dad isn’t my biological dad but he’s been raising me since I was 5 years old. For the sake of argument, and rooted in what Jason noticed, I am the product of both of them, taking equally from each. I didn’t know my dad’s parents very well; they died when I was young. However, my mom’s parents also were opposite. I see it in my other family members and in people in public I don’t even know. The trend goes back to the beginning, with possible deviation here and there. One person containing such disparate traits is both beautiful and rich in possibilities and clearly dangerous, a playground for warring demons and angels and the in-betweens. In another hundred years the spawn of my spawn of my spawn are going to be a chaotic amalgam of junkyard piles of disparate traits. What a challenge it will be for them to just make it through the day. It’s no wonder anti-depressants are so big in our patchwork internet lives.