° an introduction °
When my mother died, I was about 5 years old, but I remember, so perfectly, every hair, every wrinkle, every expression she made. At that time, my life used to be that famous "fairy tale", I had an amazing mother, a father that I was always proud to say was mine, and nothing else, it was just us, we could only be 3, but that's it. was enough for me. But as in all fairy tales, a tragedy always happens, and that was mine, or one of them.
At the age of 7, my father and I decided that we would move in with his relatives, which included my aunts, who thought that introducing any woman to him would make my mother forget, my grandmother, who was extremely rude to everyone, my grandfather, who only smoked and drank (I don't think I ever heard a phrase he said without the word "cigarette" included) and my uncles, who like my aunts, introduced all the women in town.
I was raised by my father and my aunts for 10 long years, until, to my misfortune, my father died slowly and painfully from cancer, which happened to be the same one that took my mother away from me years ago. It was not easy for me, my father was like the sun of my broken solar system, he was my strongest light, without him it was like entering an immensely deep darkness, without supports or desire to go back underground.
Now 17 years old (hoping to turn 18), my only goal is to become independent, and get out of this house that I would never call mine. My aunts insisted on taking me to the psychologist, but I didn't see the need to "open up" to strangers, at least I didn't, because after October 31, 2003, unexpectedly, I met a person who made me want to say everything. about me, even my deepest and most distinct thoughts.
Vielen Dank für das Lesen!