DEER CARCASS

An story about my early life

It’s 2011, and Breaking Dawn Part 1 just came out in theaters. There I sat in my seat, with my twilight Barbies in my arms, staring at the screen with a hypnotic gaze. Watching as events I did not quite grasp at the time, unfold on the screen. Taking a sip of my mom’s special twilight cup, we got at the concession stand, of course, filled with Diet Coke. The day couldn’t have been better.

I first saw Twilight when I was three, well, I saw New Moon for the first time. My mom was watching it, and of course, being the mommy’s girl I was, I wanted to be immersed in whatever she was watching. She didn’t think I’d like it, and I did.

Everything was Twilight, even my fifth birthday cake. A chocolate cake, with the words ‘Twilight’ carved into it, of course made by my mom. I still have all my old Twilight memorabilia. I still take sniffs of my Twilight perfume when I feel nostalgic. Wanting to transport back to a time when things were easier.

My side of the room, which I shared with my siblings, was covered in twilight things. On my bottom bunk, the wall next to it was covered in Twilight posters. I took them down at some point, and I have been looking for them ever since. I did find one, though, it is my Edward poster, and it is staring me down as I write this.

Twilight has always meant something more to me than some stupid, weird love story. I know it has its flaws, trust me, I am the first to criticize it. But it brought me so much joy. I think about the times in Kindergarten, knowing I was going to see Breaking Dawn Part Two after school and being so excited.

I think back to being so young, and it being my whole world. Talking about it to my friends, who had no idea what I was talking about. I think about painting my nails and cuddling with my mom as we watch the movies. I watch it whenever I need comfort. I rewatched the whole series the week before we had to put my dog down. It reminds me of my mother’s love, something that seems so far away; it makes it feel near again.

I was always an odd kid; I would sweat thinking about the fact that we all had conscious control of our own bodies. Sitting there in the car, watching people as they pass by, thinking about how they would never know how I would exist. I was an existentialist at a young age. Always worried about something; my anxieties were always bound up with something. I would get sent home from Kindergarten sometimes because I just wouldn’t stop crying.

One time, I remember a kid in my class got bitten by a horse fly, and at the same time, my dad was in and out of the hospital for health issues. I just started bawling because I quote ‘I didn’t know what to do’ what I said through muffled tears.

Point is, is that I was always stressed, always slightly neurotic.

But, atleast I had my monster stories to comfort me.

My mother used to read me Grimm fairytales and Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark as bedtime stories. She and I used to do a lot together. We saw not only Twilight movies in the theater, but also Dark Shadows, and Warm Bodies, just to name my favorites. We used to watch shows together, such as Sleepy Hollow, Grimm, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and so on.

I always gravitated towards that type of stuff as a kid. I had this book, which I got back when I was in pre-school, about killing vampires. It was all written in cursive, which at the time I didn’t know how to read, so I would just look at the pictures. It is called ‘vampires, my 3000-year-old count of bloodthirst and betrayal.’ I remember I used to spend hours just staring at the pictures and trying to decipher what the cursive words meant.

I found comfort in the ghoulish and in the extreme. I notice that whenever I am in a darker period of time, I throw myself into these things. Becoming obsessed with them yet again. Could also be my neurodivergency that causes that, I don’t know. But I seem to embrace myself in it, finally feeling free when I am immersed in this type of stuff.

Always been attracted to the darker side of life, and I have always had a curiosity about it. I am fortunate enough that my mom was also into that stuff, so she gladly showed me the way into it. Which, if you read my last stroll down memory lane post, seems weird, because she also made fun of me for being alternative. Anyway, again, this isn’t a hate letter to my mom; this is about little me.

Aside from Twilight, one of my favorite movies was Dark Shadows. I rewatch it quite often still. It isn’t the best movie, but it's nostalgic, so that is what matters. I totally didn’t understand half of what was going on, didn’t understand just how oddly sexual the movie was. I saw it in the movie theater, at the old one in the city. The popcorn there was so good, they made it in the old-fashioned way, it was so good I haven’t tasted such good movie theater popcorn since. I dream of it.

As a young kid, I always seemed to be out of place with my peers. I just didn’t ‘get’ them; I always had issues socializing with them. The ‘drama’ always got to me; I just didn’t understand why we couldn’t all be friends. I got along better with adults than I did with kids.

I was always told I was mature for my age as well. Something I learned is that if a child is called mature, atleast in my experience, something is usually going on at home. A child isn’t just ‘born’ mature; something usually makes them that way.

A big theme throughout my whole young childhood is that no one questioned anything. No one questioned why I cried, why I was so mature, or anything. They just saw me as a ‘good’ kid. Of course, people thought it was weird I was so into the things I loved as a kid, but they just saw it as neglectful parenting, that my mom was letting me watch things I wasn’t ‘ready’ for.

Anyway, to move past the sappy, bad childhood thing. Back into me being a weird kid. I used to love to watch my parents get tattoos and piercings. At the old piercing shop, my mom and I used to go. There was one piercer there; she had red dreads and a vape box mod, like the old ones from when they first came out. She adored me; she used to let me sit back there and watch as my mom got piercings. Whereas other kids weren’t allowed to, she trusted me not to be stupid and reckless.

That old piercing shop was so cool, it had posters everywhere. They had poster racks that I was only allowed to look through with my mom. Because, of course, they had those nude posters of biker-esque women in them. Sometimes, if my mom wasn’t quick enough, I’d get a peek.

Everything used to be much cooler back in the early 2010’s, shame I was too young to really get to live most of it. I remember going to this local cafe and sitting in the mismatched chairs, drinking an artisanal pop as my mom read on her nook. Everything had this mismatched vibe to it, but it went together perfectly.

Or the local bar I used to go to as a kid. It was one of those fancy, hipster bars. They used to make me Shirley Temples, and my mom would have a Moscow mule, in a fancy cup. We used to listen to live music, and then once it hit nine, we were out of there.

The local comic book shop, before the owner got a wife and a sense of direction. It used to smell like olives in there. Flipping through the comics with my dad to look for Batman comics. The corner where the nerds would play Magic: The Gathering. It all used to be cooler.

Hot topic was even cooler. I remember they had these listening stations as a kid. When my parent’s used to shop, I would go and listen to music off of the listening stations.

Maybe it’s just nostalgia that makes it cooler, but I swear, hands down, everything was cooler back in the early 2010’s.

It’s hard to end this off, really. I could spend forever talking about my early childhood. All the memories I have from it. This is more of a messy collage of what memories I could scrape up into a story. But I have been feeling awfully nostalgic lately. I think writing that post about little emo me has sent me down memory lane, really.

I wish I could go back and tell little me to enjoy it while it lasts, and to stop being so anxious all the time; there’s no reason to. I would also tell her to take better care of her Twilight dolls and to beg mom and dad for more Twilight stuff. I would also tell her not to let any adult make her feel ashamed or wrong for liking the things that she does. That they are just boring, and not to feel weird.

If I could sit down with little me, I would. I would love to learn more about her insight into the world. I thought a lot about the world as a kid, and I would love to relive what my thought process was back then. We would sit down in one of those hipster cafes, with our twilight shirts on, just chatting away. She would most likely try to play Barbies with me, I would oblige, and play with her.

I think she would like what she’d become. We didn’t become scientists like I always wanted to be, well, who knows, I am only nineteen, so time will tell. Back when I was a kid, I watched a man dissect a deer. He explained to me all the parts, and I got to take the carcass home. My mom put it in a lye mixture and left it in there too long. Could’ve had a full deer skeleton, thanks, mom. I used to want to ‘science’ everything; I had a microscope and a lab coat.

I have a faint memory of bringing my microscope and lab coat into show and tell. I tried explaining to the kids that everything was made of science. I used a girl’s red panda stuffed animal as an example, that animals were science. They didn’t get it.

Anyway, there I go rambling again. I would love and urge you to tell me what you were like as a young kid. I would love to hear it!

Finally, to end this off. I have a few things to say. Bring back hipsters, and fuck Stephanie Meyer.