Today has been a bit of a rageful day in my mind. Emotions I can't explain clawing at me from the inside. Any little ounce of frustration at work has sent me into fits of clenched fists and irritation. I've tried breathing it out but I need to find a way to calm down.
Well back onto my train of thought..
After the loss of Gage, I found it hard to focus. I spoke almost nothing. I drank almost a fifth of liquor a day. I worked no job, had few friends, and no one really knew how to speak with me about this tragedy. I was in so much internal pain that I wanted to be outside of myself. The only way I could touch that rendition was to drink until I passed out, wake up, and repeat.
I ate one tuna fish sandwich a day.
I lost weight yet looked unhealthy.
I decided to get a job for the sole purpose of funding my alcoholism.
I started at walmart overnight stocking shelves.
It sucked. It was hard work but I slowly got used to it. And I had the added perc of being one of the prettiest girls there. Because I have all of my teeth.
With slim pickins at walmart I chose a severely alcoholic 38 year old loser that lived at home with his mom and had severe mental issues.
I chose the path to booze.
I moved in with him and his mother shortly after we started hooking up. Right away we were fighting. After about 6 months I caught him shooting meth into his arm and threw my shit in the car.
I headed right back to mama's.
About 4 weeks into my return home I had a horrific thought.
When was my last period?
I ignored this notion for about 2 more weeks but I consciously stopped drinking cold turkey. I got sweats and felt terrible constantly but that slowly waned. I finally got up the courage and bought one of those $1 pregnancy tests from a local grocery store.
I took the test and it said negative. To hide the evidence from my mother I stuck the tiny little stick in my pocket and went about my day. Later on that night as I was taking off my blue jeans I heard the tick of plastic against the floorboards of my bedroom. I continued to get dressed for bed and quickly picked up the trash and walked outside to throw it in the dumpster.
Absently I just glanced at the results to celebrate a small victory.
I didn't want to be pregnant. It was horrible, it hurt, and I would probably kill it with my body just as I had done Gage.
I squinted at the result window to make out that singular negative line in the harsh light of a street lamp. To my shock suddenly there appeared a line crossing over it, positive.
I stood for a moment, stock still and staring in confusion. I bit my lip and raced in my mind for a simple explanation. That something in the laundry detergent in my jeans had caused a false negative. That it was a fucked up test.
All I could really make out clearly in this jumble of thoughts was "How could something that costs a buck determine my future?"
I didn't go back in the house. I didn't think. I walked to walgreens and bought 3 pregnancy tests. Different brands.
I went home and drank glass after glass of water, just staring at the test on the counter waiting for the result to go back to negative.
I took the first test.
Positive.
I took the second test.
Positive.
I took the third.
If you guessed positive then you would be RIGHT!
I just walked into my bedroom and went right to sleep.
The next morning I awoke to a line of positive pregnancy tests on my dresser and more thoughts in my head than I could deal with.
The main thought at that time was "He's going to die. Just like Gage."\
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