Adrianne’s P.o.v:
It’s the anniversary of my mom’s death… it’s been seven years. I barely have any memories of her, I feel like she was just a stranger that I used to know. My dad has been telling me about her, and all of their dates, adventures and gigs. He had the biggest smile I could’ve ever seen him wear while describing her. I had gotten up from the couch in the suite and asked if I could have some time alone. I mean I admit it, its really nice learning stuff about her but right now I just feel like crying because I remember the nights she would just go out and get high while I was at home alone with no one, or having a friend over and she was so high she didn’t know who I was. After my dad left the room, I just laid there hating and envying every other girl who has a mom to go shopping with, a mom to go to when she needs help with boys, or a mom who just wants to sing her daughter to sleep. I don’t have that and never will. Why did she do that to us? Why did she start using drugs? I never was a bad child, my dad wasn’t horrible. My mom never had a bad life! She was famous for Christ sakes! Sometimes I do think it’s my fault. My dad told me not to think that, but at times like this. Who couldn’t?

Notes

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