I seldom write about my family. It’s not that it’s because I don’t love them or anything, because that couldn’t be any further from the truth. I don’t really know why I don’t, it’s not like their lives aren’t mind-numbingly boring either. It’s just, I don’t really write about my family. I suppose my family life is something I’d rather keep out of my writing, and that there are more interesting or attempted humorous things to write about instead.
To cut to the chase, and what’s been ill-timely, eating at my mind for the last few days is that my parents are debating on separating. An actual legal divorce is probably unlikely, since neither of them would genuinely want to engage in the very American act of having to go through the work to make it happen when instead, my dad could just simply move out.
I’d like to think that as I near 30, news like this would be a bit easier to digest than at a volatile teenager’s age, but I’m finding out witnessing my own emotions and thoughts, that it’s still not any less thrilling. I suppose I can rationalize both parties better than if I were a kid, and I won’t be trying to blame myself for anything, but I’m still feeling a bit upset by the circumstances.