Awkward Moments

I’m really worried about my dad now. He’s been acting extremely strange as of late. For example, a few minutes ago he came into my room while I was looking up more about Slender. He froze right in the middle of the word he was about to say when he saw a picture of the slenderman on my computer.

“W-what is that?” he asked without taking his eyes off of my computer.

I told him it was a review of a video game I was thinking about playing. He looked me straight in the eyes and told me not to play video games like that.

I didn’t even get to reply. Right after he said that he left, slamming the door behind him. I don’t even know what he originally wanted to tell me.

He’s never had a problem with the video games I play before. In fact, there have been a few times where he would come into my room and watch while I play them.

Escapism

I like survival horror video games. When I’m fed up with the world and I want to be alone, I close my blinds, turn out the lights, and play a game. I’m really bad at them, though. I’ve only actually completed a few. I’m also really cheap, so I tend to just get a bunch of free indie games.

They give me a chance to pretend to be someone else. Instead of nerdy little outcast Archimedes, I get to be someone that’s actually capable of doing things; someone with problems bigger than mine.

I’ve been looking around for new games recently. I need to get away a lot more these days. SCP: Containment Breach is freaking terrifying. I can’t even turn out the lights when playing it, and even then I end up dying before I can even orient myself. I don’t know why, but that makes it even more fun to play. I’ve been hearing a lot about that game Slender, but it seems kind of silly to me. The slenderman guy doesn’t seem scary to me at all.

I still might try it out. I’m always open to new things.

Educational Prison

Today was my first day of school after Mom’s condition got worse. I’ve never liked school, and it’s only gotten worse since I entered high school. After my mom’s reaction, I never came out at school. I knew that pretty much everyone there would have either refused me like my mom did or taunt me. So, there wasn’t much point in it in the end. It makes me wonder how long I’m going to hide like this.

Now, I would take the jeers over the looks my classmates give me: pity, empathy, fear. I was never very social before, but now people seem to avoid me as if death were catching. Those that don’t avoid me altogether give their generic condolences and scurry off. Some people attempt to say something uplifting.

I can’t blame them for trying, but it’s hard to be comforted by strangers. I just want everyone to forget about me and go back to their usual lives.

Geoffrey Mark Pond

My dad has always been the more distant parent. It’s not really any fault of his. He’s just the sort of guy that doesn’t know how to talk to kids. Mom was always the one that did all the talking anyway.

 
I don’t really know anything about what his life was like before he met my mom. I’ve never met my grandparents on his side, or any of his side of the family, really. I think I remember my mom mentioning that none of his family came to their wedding either, just a few of his friends.

 
It makes me wonder what he was like. I wonder what could have happened to him to make him the man he is today. Mom must have had a huge influence on him, though. He adored her more than anything else.

 
He’s been taking her death really hard. I don’t think he’s even called his office yet, and he barely talks to anyone. He just shuffles around and stares off into space. A lot of times he looks over his shoulder as if he’s expecting to find someone there… as if he’s afraid of something.

 
I don’t believe in ghosts, but he seems haunted by something. Whether it’s his past or his wife, I don’t know. It makes me worry.

Funerals and Gravestones

I hate funerals. I hate them because I have to wear black. I like bright colors. I had to buy new clothes just for the funeral. I managed to get away with an orange tie, but I think that’s just because my dad asked my grandma to stop yelling at me.

 
I also hate funerals because the entire family gathers for them. Aunts and uncles and cousins that I barely know all crowd into my house for dinner and to swap stories about my mom. After the “pleasantries” are over and people run out of things to talk about, the conversation inevitably ends up on me. My dad always looks away as the relatives wonder aloud about boyfriends and why I don’t look more feminine.
 
I can imagine what my cousins are whispering behind their hands as they glance at me. I stand it for as long as I can, and then I retreat to my room. My grandma doesn’t even stop me.

After everyone leaves and it gets really quiet, I love graveyards. It feels like it’s just me and my mom, even though I know it’s just me. These rituals and traditions are for the living, though. I just sit down in the dirt and talk as if my mom were there to nod and smile.

 
“I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

 
“I love you.”

Emily Satsuko Pond

My mom died two days ago. She was always a very doting and loving mother. I didn’t always get what I wanted, but she always made sure I had everything I needed. Somehow, I was almost never disappointed when she refused me something.

 
She was a writer. She had this brilliant way with words. She could take a piece of paper and a pen and turn it into magic. My mom was good at everything she did. She was a genius and an artist and a wonderful listener.

 
I loved her more than anything in the world, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she had loved me even more than that. She always put me before everything else. I guess that why it hurt me so much when she refused to call me a boy. It was the one time I was ever disappointed by her. At times, I admit, I hated her for it. 

 
She was always so understanding about everything else. When I told her I was asexual, she told me it fine. I don’t know what was so different about me coming out as transgender, but she didn’t accept it. She never even said that it was a phase or that I would change my mind or any of the other excuses other people told me. She just smiled and went on as if I hadn’t said anything.

 
I miss her so much, and now I sometimes think that she never really knew who I was. It terrifies me because I never wanted to disappoint her. Now it’s possible that I broke apart every expectation she had of me. And she died without really knowing me.

“You will always be my little girl.”

That was the moment when I knew my mother would die before she would accept me for who I was.

She loved me. She really did. She just didn’t understand. I haven’t met a lot of people that do. Sometimes it’s hard, but I’ve been learning to deal with it. The judging looks and comments are starting to just become a part of normal life.

It’s still nice to let out all of my thoughts. That’s why I’m making this blog. I don’t know if anyone will read it, but that’s not the point. I just need a place to let my troubles float away.

My name is Archimedes Augustus Pond, and I am about to dump all of my problems on you.