hollyhowren
THere was a maroon blanket that my mom made me. She gave it to me the day before she left. I still have that blanket. It's like a little piece of my mom that has stayed with me. Even during the 15 years since she walked out on me, my brother and sister, and my dad. I hate that blanket. I hate it more than anything because it makes me think she loved me but everytime I look at it, I think of her and hope she's dead. Either way, she's dead to me.