I loved Alice. It was a privilege looking after her. The moment I saw her in the orphanage I cried, I knew she was the one.
That's why it's heartbreaking to know she has committed suicide, I wish there was more that I could have done. I should have asked her how she was more often.
Upon further investigation of her apartment, she had 24 sleep assist pills, 16 codienes, and about 30 ibuprofen. No wonder.
She called me.

"Hey Alice what's going on"
"Mum I need help"

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Note - this is just a blog to pin to my home page as I want sperate comments for it but I don't want to make another custom box.

I don't even know if this is real myself, it's just what I've been told. I was adopted at 7 so I remember most of the later details but still it's pretty hazy.

This story begins in a old house on the bad side of London. The 'bronx' if you will. I was born to the father who I never knew and the mother who I 'wish' I never knew.

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