I'd never really thought about life before I turned 12. The thought of how my mom was just a mom and how my dad was gone was oblivious to my adolescent recollection. Everything sort of occurred in a dream. Now, things are just happening and I'm just numb to it. Middle school was when I realized. When I dyed my blond hair and pierced my immaculate and clean Catholic body. When I had my first cigarette and my first sip of vodka. That was my safety, my cover. And presently, smoking has been taken to such extent, that I date dealers. As far is drinking, goes my mom does enough for the both of us.
Its amazing how so much has changed. Coming to my mom passed out on the floor is no longer unforeseen. I'm insensitive to cleaning vomit off of the apartment's stained carpets. And to when she wakes up and calls me crazy for even mentioning some "bullshit" like that. This apathetic and detached feeling has come over me. However, I cant help but feel sorry for her and walk away thinking,"She doesn't remember a thing."