I’ve spent most of my life waiting for people to die. In my family, death is the only possible way for the living to find closure and peace. In life, there is no middle ground with my family. Grudges are held for generations, sons and daughters can never hope for forgiveness. A grudge, in my family, may result in having your existence wiped clean in a manner that would humble writers of dystopian sci-fi. Even the family tree has been so cleanly wiped of certain branches and events that professional genealogists are unable to find a hint of anything.
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There\u2019s such poison in my family that I find myself anxiously waiting for even the more beloved, benign members to die. In those cases, I see guilt by association. They need to die simply because they are a part of my family, and therefore capable of maintaining whatever evil it is that travels through our veins and brains.<\/p>\n
This is why I don\u2019t have children, nor will ever have children. To perpetuate my name, and the legacy of my name, is a crime against all Humanity.<\/p>\n
In recent months, I’ve sat down and tried to study my family. I’ve tried to figure out the hows and whys, the hidden histories, the obfuscated past. In a family of sociopaths, this is difficult, because there is no shared history, there is no talk. Stories change, and lies are told simply for the sake of lying. You can trust nothing anyone in my family says, you can believe nothing they tell you. On the surface, this may be a defense mechanism. Mine is a family of murders, suicides, criminals, and mysteries that fit better in the pages of a pulp novel than reality. <\/p>\n
We don\u2019t talk to each other about the truth. We never confide in each other. We don\u2019t even help each other when we\u2019re in pain. The weak are to be left behind, disowned. The sick are to be ignored, like plague victims cast out into the wilderness. The tragedies are visitations from some sort of higher power\u2026a lesson, though for what we never know.<\/p>\n
So it\u2019s left to me to piece together the fact \u2013 and fiction \u2013 of my family. From what I can tell, there\u2019s a particular dynamic that haunts every generation of my family, and, queerly, both sides of my family run parallel in their behavior. A sequence of action and reaction that defines how that generation, and their children, will behave. There\u2019s always a patriarch (or, occasionally, matriarch) who dominates the family with a subversive villainy. They may abuse family members in any number of ways \u2013 sexual, emotional, physical, or a horrifying combination. These powerful figures demand absolute obedience, and, sometimes, like my father\u2019s father, build empires on the backs and blood of their subjects. But, more often than not, these villains are more like ten cent versions of Noah Cross from Chinatown<\/em>. These large, ominous, pompous creatures who seem uncaring\u2026until you take away their possessions.<\/p>\n