Diary Of A Psychopath, Parent Tales.

 I started with my father. What a difficult man he was. Square faced, short and stout. I resembled him more than my mother. He was fair, so am I. we had good hair. I’d always joke about it with my mom. We also had the same skin, light and sensitive, dry in the winters. But, our personalities were worlds apart. While he preferred to judge the world and its people, I preferred to enjoy a modest nature, never going into too much detail.

He was strict, like any father would be. He was also narrow minded. My father would be offended by the bold things I’d say. He was the common man of this dim-witted society. Politically motivated, loud, supercilious and unfortunately, a smoker. What stung me even more was that he hid this detail from me. I still remember crying the night I found a box of cigarettes inside his side table.

My mother, she was so tiny. Thin faced with slightly dark skin, but it never bothered me. She was fat too. So very fat. I’d tell her all the time. No. She wasn’t. She was perfect. Slender and delicate. She had frizzy hair, as a result of all the dyeing and perming. Hair freak. I loved her before my adolescence. We were best friends. She would spend so much time on me, making my hair, dressing me up and taking so many photographs. But, as I stepped into my teenage years, everything changed. We fought almost every night. I hated how she would point out my wrongs. The sagacity of freedom had taken over me and her limitation’s annoyed me. I was the rebellious teenager trying to live her life to the fullest. It was an impossible mission that always resulted in failure every time I tried.

And then comes my only sibling, my brother. I chocked and then flooded another bucket of tears before recollecting myself to tell the tale. I hated to remember everything I had shared with him. Everything was lost, gone. It was faded into the winds like unnoticeable pieces of dust. But I had to tell her. The agony, the pain had to be poured out of my heart. I got up to grab a box of tissue paper and sat in front of the mirror again. I wiped it and saw Ayesha, staring at me with a miserable expression. A spider web hung at the corner of the mirror. A beam of pale blue lit up the room. I began to tell Ayesha the tale that could disturb me forever.