Blessed, comforting sleep when unconsciousness blanketed the sorrow that was his constant companion. Many times, after a meager dinner, he would leave...the house and walk. He would walk, aimlessly, unaware of direction, oblivious of his surroundings.This became a pattern for his existence, a routine that he embraced, the very repetitiveness of his days allowing him to focus on that routine, a hollow method of forgetting... of sublimating his unhappiness.Friends called, but conversations with. . My mother is the worst 'stagemom' in the history of the world. Her own dreams of being a celebrityfailed at an early stage so she decided before I was even born that Iwas going to be the next Victoria Beckham, or the next Cheryl Cole, orwhatever. I was going to be the celebrity she never was, and she wasgoing to leech off my fame and success and get all the fame and respectshe and her bloody ego felt she deserved when in fact all she ever wasto me wasn't a parent but an 'owner' or a. More

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