I’m officially abandoning the attempts at humor that I’ve previously posted on this blog. (For examples look to the abysmally horrendous “Author’s Friend: Bookstore Bargain” and “Once, I had a friend named Whiteboard.”) I don’t know why I struggle with humor so much, but I do. It’s something I know I need to work on.

Growing up, I had to grow up. I always had more interaction with adults than with peers. I won’t go into the painful details of why that is, but I’ll just say that all the things you hear about kids doing each other and how cruel they are to each other are true.

My dad was diagnosed with cancer when I was 7. The ensuing years were a difficult period for my family, especially for me. I lashed out at my dad in ways that I can never forgive myself for. But I had to grow up and act older than my age for the most part. He was sick for a long time, with periods of remission that grew increasingly shorter, until he finally passed away cancer-free when I was 15. For 8 years I had more concerns on my plate than the average child of my age and that seriously impacted me. I’m not saying that this is the only reason that I struggle with humor, but the seriousness of my family life for all those years I do think had a part in this struggle.

I try to write humor but I know it doesn’t come across well. It’s not funny, I know that. I also know that what I find funny most people don’t. My brain works in a really weird way. From now on, though, I’m going to no longer try to force the humor out of me because it simply isn’t working.