Fetishizing death or the subversion of family into a long life embodiment of an expiration date.

Consuming a prototype of what family is through pop culture, but what happens, in reality, as we grow up and form complexes through childhood trauma, and by the time you’re 25 you are just about ready to not give a fuck about what your cousins think about you? 

My mum was doing a workshop via zoom about ‘Writing A Life Story’, I felt a twinge of if only I had shared that knowledge and how maybe she would react to a book format of my life. Would the trauma have been worth it with a paycheque in tow? Or mass humiliation that would cut ties with me, that would be disowning while in bed reading her kindle.

I’m feeling cynical and pessimistic which is okay, I know, the pandemic is still going and I am doing a job I hate, in my hometown whilst living with my parents, triggered daily. This contextualizes everything I write, say, touch. I am more aware than ever of my unstable leaking mental capacity affecting my only profitable role right now, and my money will be wet with tears over time.

 I am indeed over-time. 

I had a childish strop at 9:30 pm last night from my parents interrupting my night of masturbating. I was talking about cancer on the landing while retrieving objects from downstairs. I’m waiting for one of us to fall down them, call it a strike, I will not be going to work either way. I cried last night because I thought about how tragic my pleasures have been dampened by anxiety-inducing pressure-building release pending way, it’s a recogniseable pattern a familiar family outburst of emotions that can’t be regulated or consumed well by anyone near. 

I cried salty tears, I miss cum, how devilish I can be here away from tumblr and twitter my, my, I have grown up. 

Every morning I get asked ‘how’s ye dad?’ in a wool accent by Jessie James, a grandmother, and recent widow, she is charitable and gives me a lift to work. I can feel her project her vulnerability and grief onto me. I grieve the past, she grieves in the present all while I prepare for the loss in the future. How do you grasp all that and a mop at 6:30am cleaning the halls of a college you never went to?