Growing up I was left with people who had no business caring for kids. A young boy, drug users, a skitzophonic to name a few. My sister and I slept in the car while my mom was at parties (It was no place for a child, we were told). at like 14-15 I moved in with my boyfriend. When I was 15 I tried to come home and was told that there was no room 'cause my sisters fiance lived there.
At 16 I made the decision to get out of there and move to Ohio from California. I needed to get "right". I took my sister with me.
4 months after leaving I found out that my MOM was 7 months preg by my SISTERS fiance. OUCH, thats why there was not room for me. ANYWAY...
Even though my mom did some pretty rotten stuff, and I NEEDED to get away, I still missed her when she left. When I nearly died giving birth, she's the one I wanted. It's been 11 years since I've moved here and The 1 time a year I see her I find comfort. I miss her.
What I'm trying to say is I understand why someone would long
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