The Blogtastic Blogfest That Is Getmeoutofthis.net!

So we took a bunch of Christmas family pictures like we do every year, and just like we do every year, it was an exercise in frustration, with my mother running around, constantly changing things and dressing me and my brother up and all kinds of shit. I mean, I guess that’s all to be expected. All families go through that bullshit, I expect. But goodness, it just really gets on my nerves. It’s not just because I feel like she’s constantly picking out flaws in who I am while we’re doing this, saying I don’t smile and so many other things, and it’s not just because she makes me stare and stare at pictures of myself to find every flaw when I’m all wrong and she should know it if she cares… and then she refuses to look at herself because she can’t stand to look at herself… it’s not any of those things, although they are all certainly complaints that I have.

No, what bothers me is that I feel like she is trying to set up a picture of the family she wants, as opposed to the family she has. It’s always been obvious that I’m not what she wanted. I mean, she wanted me to be a son, for one thing. But as she makes me do everything I never do to myself and look how I never look, I just feel like she doesn’t want me there. She wants this perfect idea of me instead. She wants the me she wishes I was, instead of the me I am.
I just don’t get the point of even taking a family picture if that’s the case. It should be a picture of all of us, as we are. And sure, dressing up is appropriate, and I’m more than willing to give it a go, but it should still be my thing, shouldn’t it? I should still look like me? I should still be me in the picture? And I mean, why not have some pictures where we’re looking normal. Isn’t that more likely to remind of good times when you look at the picture? Or am I just completely crazy for thinking so?

In any case, it’s over now, but I’m just left with such an empty feeling. Maybe it’s just because the camera stole my soul or something. I don’t know. And it’s not like I want to completely bitch at my mom. I do love my mom, even if I have a ton of things I wish she would do to make it a less stressful time for me to be around her. It just… all this stuff just reminds me head on how wrong I am, and how wrong these people, who are very close to me, see me… and honestly it’s just pretty depressing, I guess.

Yay holidays, huh?