At the ripe age of 5 she lost her mom.
Not in the sense that you think.
She’s not dead.
Her mom was kicked out.
Her life split. Moms house. Dads house.
Back and forth.
How confusing for a 5 year old.

At the ripe age of 9 her mom had a baby.
The baby was the highlight of her day.
Coming home to a smiley little person made all her troubles fade away.
Soon mom would just hand the baby to her right when she got home from school.
She had to watch the baby and do homework and shower and cook dinner.
She would stay up with the baby in the night and be the parent her mother wasn’t.
How confusing for a 9 year old.

At the ripe age of 12 her mother had another baby.
Now she had 2 baby’s, school, and sports to tend to everyday.
Most days she would come home and get the kids and hide in her room.
She couldn’t stand to see her mother passed out on the couch again.
She was getting used to her mothers behavior and the responsibility of 2 kids.
But she couldn’t understand why her mother would do this to her, to them.
How confusing for a 12 year old.

At the ripe age of 13 her mother overdosed.
She thought she was going to die.
It felt like a relief.
What a horrible thought to have about your mother.
Her mother went to a mental hospital for a few days and she felt nothing but dread.
The night her mother came back she told her “If it weren’t for my kids I would be dead. I wish I never had kids.”
How confusing for a 13 year old.

At the ripe age of 14 she took her life.
The weight of her mothers words hung so heavy on her shoulders.
She couldn’t bear to live in a world where the one person who is supposed to love you the most
wanted her dead.
She did it at night, with the kids sound asleep.
Tears were streaming down her face as she held a knife held tightly in her hand
she cried out “I LOVED YOU” as she slit her wrists and finally found comfort in the dark.