I continue to view the relationship I had with Cory, as a severe lapse in judgment. To recall the feel of his body next to mine, on top of mine, is to invite nauseating revulsion. I fault him for so much, that it is difficult to pry reasons apart, and evaluate their validity.
I loathe that we will always share Margaret. This will define who I am, in the eyes of many. Some will turn away from a future we could share, because of the decision Cory and I made together. But only I am supposed to carry the burden and the shame of an abortion.
I do not regret terminating my pregnancy. What I cannot forgive myself for, is that I conceived at all.
The memories fade, but the hurt lingers. I don’t know how to release this. Its power is too potent. Its life, without end.
This girl is small, drawing life in squiggly lines. This girl likes the snow, and owns only thin sweaters. And all my socks still have holes in them.