Not many will understand and that is ok. I write for me. I write because I have no other outlet. No one
knows the pain I have went through.
How does a person begin to explain their life?
At a very young age, with an alcohol co-dependant, mentally disturbed mother,
I was sent away to treatment.
Forced to take medication, I forgot who I was.
Barely remembered where I came from. The only thing that came naturally, school.
Years of recovery and here I am. Writing.
Expressing myself in the only way that seems acceptable and harmless.
A young mother, raising my children alone.
Free from treatment, but still trapped by my memories.