So I've been trying to write my whole pregnancy and now that I'm 39 weeks I finally have some time and ambition to do it. Gotta love nesting. If you guys could just read this and tell me if I should keep going or not I'd really appreciate it. Thank you!
P.S. I know the grammar is probably horrible I wasn't really paying attention to that.
I wish everything I thought was magically transferred to paper. I hate it when I have those moments of pure genius and I want to capture it for everyone else to see, but by the time I get to a pen and paper or computer it's gone, like youth. So as I sit here starting at the ceiling that's supposed to have a purplish tint but really just looks white to me, I'm not surprised that nothing amazing has come to me. I let my eyes wander to my closet door. It featured a small collage of drawings that I'd done in the past in the center. Many of these drawings I associated with memories. One of these isn't a drawing at all, it's a poem I wrote about my grandpa who died in 2008. My mom and grandma always would stop at this when they were doing spring cleaning and tell me how amazing it was. Want to know a secret? The poem sucks. Will anyone ever tell me that? Probably not, well perhaps my creative writing professor at college, but that's beside the point. It wasn't the poem that mattered, it was the thought behind the poem, the release I had tried to make that they envied.
Next to the poem was a drawing of a drawer, the drawer didn't really even exist. Or, perhaps it did in an elderly woman's thoughts. That woman would be my grandma, the same woman who always froze glassy eyed in front of the poem. The drawer is what I thought represented my grandparents relationship, which is the only relationship I had ever known to actually possess attributes of true love. I don't know why I drew it, maybe because I just wanted a reminder of what I really wanted, it didn't work though I still managed to ignore it for nearly six months and potentially doom my existence, but we'll get to that.
The bottom drawing was the most recent, it contained the definition of the word Nostalgia. If you don't know what it means I suggest you look it up, you'll be shocked to know that you know all too well what it means, you just never knew there was a name. Along with the definition there are three drawings of different women. One woman has her back to the viewer, she's dressed for a special occasion yet stands alone, I think I was trying to show how alone I felt at the time. I've always seen a type of elegance in being alone, perhaps that's why it seems I'm always alone. Next to that woman is another, you can't see her face, she's looking down with a bird perched on her shoulder. The drawing reminds me of how vulnerable I was when I drew it. I had worked so hard to convince everyone I was fine, but I really wasn't. I was far from it. The last woman, my favorite on the piece of paper had a face. However, you couldn't see her eyes because her bangs were covering them. She wore a coy smile as if up to no good. This woman represented my youth. She wore a smile because she couldn't see. This drawing, I feel, is also where I left my youth. When do you lose youth? Some people probably think it's when you trade in that 64 pack of crayons for a carton of cigarettes. In my opinion, these people are mistaken, this change is where youth begins. Youth begins here, because this is when we are the most foolish. Who are we to think that nothing bad can happen, that we're invincible? Oh lung cancer?! No problem I've got years until it comes to that point and by then I'll be able to quit. Fools I tell you.
So why is my youth trapped on that sheet of paper? For now I'll tell you the short version. For six months I spent my life worshipping someone who I thought I loved. I was wrong, I never loved him, in fact now all I can see him as is a monster. You probably think I'm being dramatic, maybe I am, however this can't be fixed by just breaking up with him and burning some pictures. Why? Because today I'm 39 weeks pregnant with his baby. When I told him I was pregnant he said that if it was a girl I could either put her up for adoption or get an abortion. Well, it's a girl and unlike her father she's the best thing that ever happened to me and I love her so much. I'm nineteen years old and I'm going to be a single parent, some people think my life is over, little do they know, my life is just beginning.