“The front seat is for people who’ve never been kidnapped by bloody numpties. Jesus Christ.”
— Rainbow Rowell, Carry On
My parents reacted about how one would expect. Immediately assumed I had been kidnapped despite talking to me on the phone several times. Said Marie was making everything worse. Ranted that I was checking off all the boxes in a list of bad decisions.
I sent pictures of myself and Marie beaming at the camera. I gave daily updates.
They were still concerned that I was kidnapped. Later on, I needed my password to log in to pay my credit card. Only problem? My password book was in Pennsylvania.
I texted my mother to explain the situation. She said I would have to answer security questions first…ugh. But whatever.
She asked what my best friend’s middle name was.
She asked what church I attended when I was 7.
She asked what color my bedroom walls had been before we painted them.
I answered everything correctly, but apparently not fast enough. She said she could not find my password book. My brother confirmed that it was easy to find and she must not have looked hard. And based on how quickly she answered that she couldn’t find it, she couldn’t have looked long. I have since convinced them that I am in fact not kidnapped and am staying in Florida of my own free will. And that I am actually, for the first time in as long as I can remember, genuinely happy.
Post 34 in Socially Unacceptable: The Daily Life of a Queer Schizophrenic Wreck (2022)
This is an autobiographical series about my life, something I have wanted to do for a long time. I intend to add new content daily.
For the whole series, follow this link.