the wreck

I’m full-speed, can’t stop. It feels like the inevitable conclusion is me crashing, burning alive; the events of the last 2.5 years will culminate in a cataclysm unprecedented in scope by anything I’ve experienced to date. I imagine I’ll end up crazy and dramatic, locked away somewhere and forgotten for my own safety. Then again, maybe it will end quietly, with a whisper and a wistful sigh…

All I know is that I’m scared to find out.

I’m on CD (cycle day) 10, waiting to see if my body can pull itself together and ovulate this month. It’s been 2.5 months since my last miscarriage. All of my dreams are of gynecological surgery, of having my babies scraped and suctioned violently out of the wasteland of my aging body and heart. I keep going, even though my breath is shallow and short. 

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