Memory Is A Tenuous Thing. . . . Flickering Glimpses, Blue And White, Like Ancient, Decomposing 16mm Film. Happiness Escapes Me There Where Faces Are Vague And Yesterday Seems To Come Tied Up In Ribbon Of Pain.

my moms drug of choice was Crack, was because she is currently in prison for two years sentence, and has been in and out most of my life. but anyway, when i was younger she used to tell me it was a special type of cigarette or that the doctor gave it to her and it was okay. haha, she thought i was so stupid. when i was eight or so she even tried teaching me how to change it from cocaine to crack. she acted as if she was on food network, she explained each step and asked if i wanted to try making the next batch. my mother has never been a mother and after watching her stare and whisper at the demons in her head that no one else could see. and also after watching her get hauled away time after time after time. i just consider her dead, and i tell people she is dead too. because that is a lot better then saying i have a mother who is addicted to drugs, and her being dead is a much better explanation for why i hate my life.
wellarentyouimportant wellarentyouimportant
18-21, F
Jul 27, 2010