I was on a path of destruction, slow, but walking the path none the less. I had no self respect, or love. I was allowing my self to be pushed along, used, raw. I had become so numb to some degree that pain only registered momentarily.

I took stupid chances, lost time. I kept going back the a constant that gave me nothing but pain. I longed for another man that was never to be mine. I kept hoping for an end, but not one of my doing. Drama is what I wanted and what I created.

One of the lowest points I have ever hit found me in an apartment I could not afford and was about to loose, lying on the floor. I was so tired. It was more than the gothic tired I had been affected with for more than a year. I was sick. It took every ounce I had to crawl to the bathroom to get sick. This is it, I thought, I have contracted something horrible and I am finally dying.

Not that it was complete gloom and doom at this time. There was one. Him. My soulmate. The one I pined for in an Ophelia like way. He was there, I sought refuge with him in bursts, never letting on that I was sick, or telling him that I was homeless. I would go for a warm place to sleep. To have contact, albeit a chaste, with another human. We always shared the same bed. Close, but never sex. It was beyond in many ways. He saw a spark in me. Below the dark, past the stench of my past. He would tell me of the beauty he saw, the worth that I had, the magic I possessed. It was the thought of him that propelled me off of the floor and to the clinic. At least if I was dying I should know from what. We could then plan a fitting gothic end.

I AM WHAT?! That is all I remembered thinking in that instant. I had prepared to be told that I was sick, at worst terminal, at best in need of some serious medical intervention. Instead after peeing in a cup I was told by a very somber and slightly judgmental lady that I was indeed pregnant. My mind raced, this was not part of the script. How far, I was not sure, in the haze I had been living I could not clearly remember at that moment my last period. While my ex had been the most obvious there was still a moment of WHO? and then, what the fuck am I supposed to do now?!

In that instant it began to change. There was panic. Not for me but the life that had fought hard to be inside me. I needed to know how long it had been there. If it was just new I had options but I needed to know.

The ultrasound showed that I was around my 16th week. My options had narrowed.

I called my sister but said nothing. I asked for a place to stay as I was trying to get my life together. I did not tell Him, I just removed myself from his orbit. I needed to tell someone. I wanted to scream. My best friend and I had fallen out almost a year before but hers was the only place I could think of to go. She was not home, but I told her little sister and tols her that if she saw her, to get her to call me.

The next stop was telling the sperm donor. If I could find the shit- it did not take long, as was the pattern, he found me.....

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