I always thought of my mother as beautiful and happy so so happy I aspired to be her. She was charismatic and kind people loved her. You will never quite meet anyone like her apart from perhaps my little brother who is so much like her its scary incase he turns out like her. Both were so content with the life they lived and always saw something positive even when they was nothing.
An artist that's what she was maybe she will be again one time. Her golden coloured hair which she always kept short brought out her big blue eyes so full of life her high angled cheekbones only added to her beauty.
She really was gorgeous. You wouldn't recognise her now. Maybe from my description you thought she may of passed away? Instead she sits in a mental hospital trapped inside her own mind. And everyone silently grieves for the person she used to be that fun, strong and caring women who if you met couldn't help but love her and be glad you got to know her.
After two overdoes her blue eyes have hollowed into her face vacant and glassy as if no ones really there. Cheeks puffy from the medicine fed to her.
I don't know her.
I don't know the women who's sat on the sofa for the past year as the drugs trying to get her back from her breakdown has slowly stolen her from us.
I don't know the person who has paranoid delusions and thinks people are after her.
That women isn't the person who raised me she's not my mum don't be mistaken I still love her as much as before and I hate myself for saying that.
When did it all go so wrong?
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