Doxie Proxy

Baby of mine.

An old friend sent me a message on Facebook tonight. It consisted of “Lookie!”, and contained an ultrasound image of what will be her third child. Do you know how awful it is to feel at once very happy for someone else and completely miserable for yourself? Two cousins are pregnant. A friend’s DIL is pregnant. Someone else I know has a pregnant teen at home. Is there something in the !@#!@# water?

Everyone…but me. This is horribly elitist, but it’s my journal, and it’s what I think. I see so many WORTHLESS people (no, not the aforementioned) popping out babies they don’t want or need because they are too stupid to be protected, or because they can get more gubberment money (yes, in my former doings, I knew many people like this, and yes, one of them spelled ‘government’ just like that), and some bottom-dwellers breed like rats.

Why? Why not me?

I’ve deactivated my Faceb0ok account. I can’t stand the thought of one more !@#!@#! person posting that they are pregnant. I can’t stand it.

I just can’t stand it right now. It hurts.

I wish my damn insides had fallen out when I was a kid, and I wouldn’t have to worry about this any more.

I wouldn’t worry about it.
I wouldn’t pray about it.
I wouldn’t cry about it.

It’s like I’m a damn mutant. God, I’m miserable right now.

Better

Life is better today, although I physically feel like crud. I’ve got the sniffling, snorting, sneezing, coughing, hacking wheezing so-you-want-to-throw-up illness. Similar to Nyquil, but less fun.

I have this heavy feeling throughout my whole upper body, and my head feels so freakin’ heavy. I just want to go to bed. God, I’m just exhausted.

Going to hit the sack again.

Smooches,

Me.