My Creepypastas 

About me:

I'am a terrible speller. My mom was the main reason writing and drawing.When she was little she draw all the time and painted. As she got older, she got into phlebotomist. she stop making her great art work because she was working and sporting two little girls, when she worried all the time about her little boy in California. As i got older i understood her pain she worked so hard to make money. Her job started to cripple. The stress was to much. She began to show symptoms of bipolar disorder. The medicine helped but made it hard to do her job. Her meds made her hands shake, because of this she had to quit her job. She stop doing the things she loved, to take care of two little girls. So me being one of those like girls i continue her artwork, but more like making her proud of her little girl. And well this is what am doing.