#45. Head Intruder

We can’t control where we come from.  We don’t get to stick our hands into the pool of time and rearrange things to avoid discomforting implications, and once my mother told me a story that would shift this issue to the forefront of my thoughts for a long time.  When she was a little girl, she awoke to find a creature standing in her room.  She was sharing this with me because on the TV there was a show about aliens, and they were showing a composite sketch of an alleged alien creature from an abduction case.  My mother swore that the sketch was not just of the same race that visited her, but the very same individual.  I’m not saying I’m an alien, but I would go as far as to say nothing would travel across the universe just to scare a little girl in her room, and that’s generally how we explain my strangeness in my family, that she was subject to some alteration that resulted in whatever is going on with me. I don’t personally like that this story is a thing to be considered. I put a lot of emphasis on the fact that I don’t consider myself to be any more capable than others, and even if the story were true it would not mean it had anything to do with me as I was born decades later. My talents could be attributed to shortcomings in my capabilities as easily as they could be attributed to alien alterations.