The Past Doesn't Change the Future

I was just 1 when my mother died. I didn't know much about her except that she had long, jet-black hair, hazel eyes, and a splash of freckles on her face, just like me. After she died, my father became depressed. He used to take care of me. I say how great of a father he was. Then one September morning everything changed. He changed. Wine and beer became a better companion than me. His bedroom became like a sanctuary to him. He still took care of me but it became less and less over time to the point that by the time 7th grade was starting, a year after his depressed state took over completely, I was all on my own. But that was 7 years ago. I'm 19 now and starting college. I've got my best friend along for the ride and I know it's going to be a crazy fucking ride. My only worry: every one finds out about my past. But I don't worry too much. Why? Because my past will never change my future.