February 16th, Year of the Moon

The fire within me, it has amounted to nothing. It did not clear a path, did not light the way, did not impress anyone.

I am naked, so the world looks away. What things I must tell myself, when I stand alone. My lips quiver, but I am steady. There is no time to listen to what others can say. My child’s time is brief, and it is this I must communicate with:
You take in the world through my eyes, and all you see is grey and black. You are choking on my anguish. The ways of sorrow are forming you.

Yesterday, I saw a doctor for what I label my condition. He is worried that the fertilized egg has implanted itself in my fallopian tube, since the abdominal pain I am experiencing is restricted to the right side. I will have my blood drawn every two days for a week, to measure my hCG levels. At that point, he will be able to determine if I have an ectopic pregnancy. Of course, my conscience would greatly benefit from this being the case.

I cannot keep this child. I have searched for ways in which this could be a viable option. The remaining eight months is not enough time to find myself in a financial position, to provide my progeny with even its most basic necessities. In truth, I don’t believe I could survive this pregnancy. The hormonal shifts have created suicidal ideations. I lack the focus required to plan an end to my life. And if I could, I have no energy to see it through.

I punish myself by fantasizing about the future my child could have. I am lying to myself if there is any promise to the invented images. Cory has made it abundantly clear that he would not rest until he takes the child from me, despite loathing the idea of fatherhood. And, he said, it is not because he believes I would be a terrible mother, but because he likes the idea that I would suffer. But it is Margaret, as I have named her, because I can at least give her that, who would see her petals wilt and fall at his side. It is Margaret whose tears would form pools of an eternal aching, next to a father loyal to his cocaine-fueled fury.

Let it be clear, Cory’s weak character is but one of many reasons this pregnancy has to end. It is equally me. It is about what I have never wanted, and did not successfully avoid, due to a careless moment.

February 16th, Year of the Moon

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