my father died during my stay. all of a sudden, at the tender age of 15, i was an orphan and was to choose my guardian.
the lawyer came to make sure if i really wanted to stay. even the miserly sob smelled a rat.
what was i to do? my aunt is truly bipolar and that time she wasn't medicated. my step-mother has been compared to joan crawford (as in mommy dearest).
i stayed.
to have been 15 and to have known, or felt, that there was no way out. no exit.
agony? to have seen your father laid out on a slab...dead from an overdose of heroin and being yelled at for not disclosing the cause of his death.
despair? to have the last memories of the person who loved you most, who adored you like no other, dimly lit under the drugged stupor at pine-crest hospital. my eyes, they barely could stay open.
