Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose an Assisted Conception Unit with a fucking big price tag, Choose scans and conversations, vial snappers and mixing needles. Choose good health, low fat, high fibre and vitamin supplements. Choose credit cards and remortgages. Choose your friends. Carefully. Choose stress and anxiety. Choose early starts and injecting, wondering who you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing spirit-crushing game shows, analysing every single item of food you put into your mouth. Choose constant agitation and worry and waiting for results, and hoping at the end of it all to see the brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that?
Hmmm, gotta be honest none of this is striking me as cathartic yet, and who knows where it's going to end up. I decided that maybe this was the best way to go with everything that's gone on. something for me, somewhere I can write how I feel without platitudes or people telling me they get it, when frankly they don't have the first fucking clue. anononimity, gotta love it, can never fucking spell it.
I get bored with being expected to show my life to the masses, or rather the people who want to poke me with a stick and see how I react. Fucking violently is the answer, but I play nice and plot their downfall under my breath whilst cursing them and plaguing them with quite nasty infections and severed appendages. What can I say, I'm nothing if not imaginative (and vicious).
I wonder if I'm allowed to swear on this site. Gonna be a bloody short lived blog if not.
