This is so unfair. I don't know what I did to make God hate me so badly, but whatever it was this shitstorm of a life is NOT a fair trade. I just wish I could be numb and not have to feel this all of the time. But even vicodin and vodka have no effect on the black whole in my chest.
I can't do it, I'm not strong enough and it's no fucking fair.
Unfortunately, I'm not given a choice. I have to deal with it. At least we were already scheduled for vacation this week, so I'm not having to deal with work, too. Work has been very understanding. My friend P has taken care of letting everyone know and has been very sweet about seeing do I need anything. It is appreciated.
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Big C on the other hand, not too small to care. Too small to careabout my feelings, but big enough to care at least. He wants to know where the baby is, how did it get there, are we sure it's not just sleeping. Why did I tell him? Why should he have to be burdened with this too? He was really looking forward to having another baby. One that wouldn't be an off limits source of competition, but one that would be an equal and available source of love.
OK, I have to stop, I could ramble on this way all day, but seeings how this is already more of a journal entry than blog and long enough to be boring, I'll stop.
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