Who am I, anyway?


This last week, I’ve been a little homesick. Chalk it up to the approaching holidays, or maybe due to the fact that I recently pulled out  a folder full of essays that my grandfather wrote about his life, but I have wanted nothing more than to spend some quality time with my family.

Along with a few tears, my recent nostalgia has dusted off a few tid-bits of information that I now bring into question.

I mean, I know I have some interesting people in my family; and I know we all have some interesting stories… but I’m not sure I much I can trust my own memories. I don’t think I’m ever intentionally a liar, but I’m the first one to admit that I have the tendency to exaggerate. And sometimes I think those exaggerations might disguise themselves as memories.

For example: I know that my grandfather did, in fact,  invent some form of “kiss-proof lipstick;” though I’m pretty sure that he did not invent milk chocolate…which is something I told my classmates for years. The fact is, I believe (and I could be wrong) that there is some sort of ingredient that both keeps lipstick on your lips and keeps chocolate solid… and that’s what he helped to invent.

I also have vivid memory of narrowly escaping a fire. In my head, we grabbed everything we could fit and piled onto the back of a trailer as we watched the flames chase us down a dirt road.  Upon further examination of my memory, I’ve come to the conclusion that I either had a horrible nightmare once as a child, or my family was on a hayride and we drove passed a bonfire.

Now I’m wondering if other facts that I’ve chosen to believe are completely fabricated.

Like the fact that someone on my mom’s side of the family put a hex on my cousin’s and me. I don’t know where that one came from. I’ve told it to people for years, truly believing that was the cause of my horrible luck… but recently I mentioned it to my mom and she told me I was insane.

Now I am finding myself questioning EVERYTHING.

Did I really once run away under the cities sewers with a backpack full of kudos and capris suns? Did I almost get pushed into the creek by a rabid bull? Did I witness a whole herd of raccoons break into our ice chests during a camping trip? Did I actually even see a white fuzzy alien standing on my dog’s grave in the corner of my backyard?

Surely they all can’t be false memories. Who am I?

At least I know I had a huge crush on some guy named Steven in the 3rd grade. I know because my diary told me so. This is why I have to write everything down, people.


Related posts:

  1. I owe it all-a to my momma. Hollah!
  2. I am probably the most gullible person in the world, and the Tooth Fairy is still my best friend.
  3. The scariest moment of my life (for once not an exaggeration) and why I am the worst person to be around when shiz goes down
  4. Why I will never sleep in the woods again…
  5. Post it note Tuesday, and damn girl where you been?