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There is a slim chance I could be pregnant. This is so very much not a good thing at all.

I can't do it again. I cannot go through the pain of losing another.

And not with him.

He's not daddy material.

He proved that time and again with her.

He never hit her. No, nothing like that. Some people aren't meant to be parents, that's all.

He knows this.

We went to Apple Hill for honey sticks and apple pie.

I had a sip of apple wine.

Yesterday I wrote a long reply to Mr. Motel 8's short email.

He never even noticed my absense this past week.

I'm not even worthy of his time after he's drank a few.

I won't listen to his show tomorrow.

Why should I? It means very little to him anyways.

I don't understand how it is that people think it's ok to push me aside for a while without explaination and then expect me not to be hurt about it later.

I've never done anything wrong to him.

Once upon a time when I was catholic, after catechism and days before first communion, the woman said to me "You'll never have to go to confession. You're an angel."

And I've never been.

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