5
" I would take them a few times, feel my emotions and sense of reality fuzz, and look at my mother who had been doped up on them since we moved to Chattanooga. I would see her blank, hazel eyes, and her bright, but empty, smile with chronic, artificial, exaggerated cheer, and become scared. I often wondered if she was buried under layers upon layers of southern sugar. I would make bitchy, inappropriate statements and look for her. I would say something, anything to shake her and look into her eyes for something real. I saw it when she was upset or afraid. I saw it when she’d spot me exiting my bathroom, hair tied back, knowing what I’d done. I saw it when she found out I was raped. I saw it when I told her about the drugs I used. I saw flickers of a real person, but she quickly disappeared within herself once she gathered composure. I decided not to be like her. Even if it meant embracing my demons, I wanted to be real. After a couple doses, I would toss the meds in the garbage. "
― Maggie Georgiana Young
8
" no song no picture or words will make you love me ,, may be you will never know ,, or may be you knew and felt sorry for me or thought it was sweet ,,but nothing will make me more than just a passing thought or a name you try to put for a face ,,,for me you are an exiting pain ,something that i involuntary need to share with the world how i suffer every time i hear a song or see a love them ,,after all this i need to see the facts ,,i gambled and i lost ,, i had to let the thought of you go ,, it is hard ,,it is painful ,,but it something i need to do ,, for me "