Received a PM from someone asking about Naomi.
Our little girl isn't so little anymore - well - as she was 18 when she entered our lives, I guess she wasn't ever so little for us. And she turns 25 on January 2.
I'm so glad she made it so far!
But without the use of heroin, our beautiful angel suffers all the problems that come with her psychological handicaps: juvenile onset schizophrenia (paranoid schizophrenia), bipolar disorder, manic depression. Her tortured soul struggles daily, never really aware of time passing.
Thanks to an amazing benefactor with a schizophrenic son, Naomi will be cared for as long as she wants to remain in the community, where she works and receives care. She's come and gone. She never leaves for long, but the call of the wild is still strong in her. She hasn't returned to heroin (that we know of), but on her... excursions... she has turned to drink at times. She has an addictive personality, and does everything to the extreme. Her "father's" daughter for sure.
With her whole life still ahead of her, we can't know what will happen, but maybe one day she'll work on the book that she's constantly creating.
A street friend of hers recently died. This was her tribute.
-I spin restlessly in a circular motion, trying to get this emotion perfected.
Too often I feel like just another tortured Lolita with too many stories to tell.
Trying to make jokes about that rigor mortis smell.
she left too soon for everyone.
she was a smile on every grey and rainy day.
but last week they found her slumped over and bruised in an alleyway.
The first time I met her, I couldn't help but stare. Recognizable always by
that celestial halo of blonde hair.
We made that park a home for wayward souls
all united by a couple of benches on fourteenth st.
She was maternal, always giving advice, Everyones mama in some orphanage zoo.
Now she's drifting through clouds waiting for rain.
I want her to know that now that she's gone, all of her children
will memorize her song.
And I can't stop wondering why do these true stories end up with sick twists?
and why does the human heart look more like a fist?
I walk with your memory, I know your last breath was a kiss.
Another suspect guardian angel added to my list.
Much of her writing can't be posted on TCS.
But last year on her birthday I posted: http://www.thecatsite.com/forums/sho...d.php?t=210141
...and if anyone isn't already familiar with our journey with Naomi, as I wrote last year on her birthday, here's the original thread. OK. Here goes. We're adopting a daughter and she needs prayers. It's quite a long read
Baby girl in a woman's body, I'm so glad you're going to make it to 25!
Our little girl isn't so little anymore - well - as she was 18 when she entered our lives, I guess she wasn't ever so little for us. And she turns 25 on January 2.
But without the use of heroin, our beautiful angel suffers all the problems that come with her psychological handicaps: juvenile onset schizophrenia (paranoid schizophrenia), bipolar disorder, manic depression. Her tortured soul struggles daily, never really aware of time passing.
Thanks to an amazing benefactor with a schizophrenic son, Naomi will be cared for as long as she wants to remain in the community, where she works and receives care. She's come and gone. She never leaves for long, but the call of the wild is still strong in her. She hasn't returned to heroin (that we know of), but on her... excursions... she has turned to drink at times. She has an addictive personality, and does everything to the extreme. Her "father's" daughter for sure.
With her whole life still ahead of her, we can't know what will happen, but maybe one day she'll work on the book that she's constantly creating.
A street friend of hers recently died. This was her tribute.
-I spin restlessly in a circular motion, trying to get this emotion perfected.
Too often I feel like just another tortured Lolita with too many stories to tell.
Trying to make jokes about that rigor mortis smell.
she left too soon for everyone.
she was a smile on every grey and rainy day.
but last week they found her slumped over and bruised in an alleyway.
The first time I met her, I couldn't help but stare. Recognizable always by
that celestial halo of blonde hair.
We made that park a home for wayward souls
all united by a couple of benches on fourteenth st.
She was maternal, always giving advice, Everyones mama in some orphanage zoo.
Now she's drifting through clouds waiting for rain.
I want her to know that now that she's gone, all of her children
will memorize her song.
And I can't stop wondering why do these true stories end up with sick twists?
and why does the human heart look more like a fist?
I walk with your memory, I know your last breath was a kiss.
Another suspect guardian angel added to my list.
Much of her writing can't be posted on TCS.
...and if anyone isn't already familiar with our journey with Naomi, as I wrote last year on her birthday, here's the original thread. OK. Here goes. We're adopting a daughter and she needs prayers. It's quite a long read
Baby girl in a woman's body, I'm so glad you're going to make it to 25!
