Nothing to write. I'm starting to treat this blog the way I treated my journal. I am disappointed at how repetitive I am. M told me this a few weeks ago, to watch out for redundance. He was referring to other things I write but I see how this problem bleeds into other things in my life.
I've been talking to A about this blog. He asks me for the address and I tell him I don't want him to find it. That is mostly true. I am afraid the loss of anonymity will make me self-conscious and I will end up lying. I think I keep enough to myself as it is. I've said a few things out of sheer desperation that might be hurtful.
But if you do find this, A, tell me. It's only fair.
I don't feel like talking about the abortion much these days. Last night, after the evening conversation with A, I thought about it. I lay in bed and concentrated, willing something to come to me. Tears, rage, something. I want to feel it all when it is gone. And when I'm feeling it, I want it gone. I find relief in crying about it, solace in the pain. Is that grief or punishment?
In moving forward, I feel guilty. Like I'm leaving my little baby further behind with every step. Will I someday reread this and look back and think myself crazy for not wanting to leave this? You don't owe the past your future. Or maybe you owe it to the past to look for a better future.
Not sure what I mean by saying that. But what good is it to that dead fetus if I waste my life mourning it? It's not as if it's floating around somewhere watching my actions, cheering me on or chastising me. Dead is dead. I still believe that.
But I find myself working it into conversations with people I've told. My dead fetus something or other. When I was pregnant blah blah blah. That must come in part from my regret that I couldn't have met him/her. Wishing it the life I could not give it.
When I think that I decided whether or not that baby should live, I am overwhelmed by the enormity of that decision and the responsibility I had. How did I decide? Love and selfishness and idealism, I suppose. And principle. I always said I would not have a baby under those circumstances. I guess I meant what I said.
Am I horrible person for feeling a little smug in knowing that I have stood by my words?
I don't tell A this. I am only half honest. How honest is he with me? Maybe more so, maybe less. I won't ever know. I imagine him out of my life because of this -- how is a genuine friendship possible between two people who have to set put up so many rules? Forget about the sex because I imagine that will go away eventually. What of the old emotions?
Where do I stand in those five stages of grief that everyone talks about and why is it so important for me to know where I am?
Summer is almost over. Being unemployed and half crazy is strange -- the hours are slow but the days go fast.
Life is short. Am I wasting mine?
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