Hello beauties,
My name is Letícia, and I’m a sixteen years old girl from Portugal absolutely in love with fashion. I spend my days reading books, watching TV shows or even posting quotes at wittyprofiles – one of the only places where I can express myself without being judged. I was born on a hot night of September, and as my mum says, I didn’t want to scream so I got slapped. It seems I was pretty weird since that time. My father forgot to charge his phone so he was the last person to see me at the Hospital. My first 3 years of existence where amazing, everything was perfect. I miss the smile on everyone’s face whenever I walked into their rooms. I miss my childhood, or should I say “part of my childhood”? My father started drinking a lot more than before, and that year that I entered in kindergarten I met new little buddies. They were so like me that i almost could see myself in the mirror whenever I looked at their shinning faces. On 19th March, in my country, is celebrated the “father’s day”. My father was so busy drinking and having fun with his friends that I barely see him at home. When 19th March came I was so excited, it was such a big thing for me. I could finally show him how much I love him. But, for the next 3 years, I never had that special day like other children had. Yes, he accepted my gift and thanked me, but it wasn’t like it should be. It wasn’t such a happy day when fathers spend the day playing around with their kids. I just opened my arms to give him my gift, he accepted and that’s all. My mother, who I love with all the broken pieces of my heart, made everything she could possibly do to make me happy, and she still does. She gave me so many gifts, walked around with me, we went shopping together and all that crazy stuff mothers do for their babies. My father and is sickness got worse, and worse. My mother and I were tired but I always pretend i didn’t care. One day he got home yelling with us, and I remember I was running away from him. My mom started packing our bags and we escaped to France, where our family was living. After a few months my dad tried to convince us that he has changed, and one day he came to France to get us back. I remember that he offered me a little orange computer, and I pretended to be happy with that. We came back to Portugal but things have never changed, he has never changed. After some years we escaped again to France, but we came back again. My father wanted to have another kid and my mother too, but unfortunately my mother had an abortion. After a while, they tried again, and that’s how my little brother exists. He is hyperactive, but his QI is above the normal. That excess of energy he has is because of the stress my father caused to my mother during her pregnancy, and it’s something I could never forgive him. My brother, Rúben, never had a “Father’s day” neither a good Christmas. My mother and I tried to solve that and to make him happy, and he made it. When “father’s day” came, we always said to him “boo, give me your present, daddy is working but I’ll give it to him!” and he was so happy that never thought that could be lie. My mother wanted the best for us, and she knew that children need a family together. We had that kind of family until I turned twelve. Since that time my parents are divorced. Things are way better now; my father moved to France and only come here on Christmas or Summer Holiday’s. He is an alcoholic, and my brother is aware of that with only eight years of old, but he understands. We both do. We can’t choose our family, this is our life and we gotta’ live it the best way we can. Thanks for reading.
With love, Letícia. xx
letpfernandes