Sometimes I think about her, and how tragic she is. How pathetic and useless yet sad and misunderstood. I look at this photos and realize she is fading.
I usually think her life has been changing for worse since she got pregnant at seventeen. But when I was born I brought a little twist, suddenly I wasn’t forcing everything to settle down like a normal baby would do to a early broken family.
We went to Mexico, she partied like my dad was a rock star, we lived in a hella expensive borrowed from a trendy artist’s apartment and had beautiful siamese cats. She was young and pretty, she had the perfect little doll looking daughter she dressed in 90s hip outfits.
For her leaving her career at our country didn’t matter for a few years. Neither being in her early 20s with a 4 year old girl and no job, because our life was perfect. I wish I could have told her “nothing is gonna go right from now on”, when I was that young.
I can’t blame her for never getting used to the idea of being alone, with no money and no love. Depressed, getting old and not being able to afford food. I’m a tragedy my self, I won’t try to help her out, it’s not my job and is none of my business her being a spoiled little crying child living under my grandparents feed. Yet I have to understand she won’t get used to the idea of not being the girl she was seventeen years ago.