It has been two weeks, now. Mostly, I ignore time, as I feel betrayed by it. This is not possible when one is feeling something that requires a diagnosis, an explanation, a cure.
My heart beats slowly, but with force. Sights look familiar, yet strange; much like imperfect copies. The pain in my abdomen increases in severity. My weight drops to worrisome lows. I sleep long hours, waking up with a need to rest. The sadness gets heavier.
A child has decided to enter my life, without permission. I know this well. Medical confirmation isn’t needed. It wants to make a mother out of me, a father out of Cory. I cannot let the cells that form inside of me continue to grow.
Oh god, what have I done?
No, it is too soon to know the outcome of a mistake.