I took the plan b pill last night, thinking that the child I would probably not have had would be a libra.

And not because I didn’t know who’s baby it was.

I feel terrible for my side dude, but in this life, I don’t really have time to feel terrible for anyone, not even myself. Ans so my emotions dissolve, and fade, and go off to wherever they go when I’m not using them… I know they don’t go far, because they come back often. Too often.

I’m so tired of telling you (Anna, there is no you, and that’s the point) that last night I fought with the boy. I’m tired of fighting with him. And truth be told, I think I’m tired of him. I don’t know why I want to kill every child that isn’t his, because I know he will make a terrible father.

I should keep my side dude’s baby, I know how much he will love it. However, I am a woman. I am not shallow, I am shrewd. And if I were to have a child, I have to make sure that the child is cared for, and I do not refer to care as an emotional aspect. The boy does not have the capacity to care for a child in the emotional sense, but he can care for the child as a matter of circumstance – he’s actually good at that. As am I. Maybe if I were to have my side dude’s child, I could take care of the circumstance, and he could care for whatever else there is. I know I can’t because I don’t even know what it is. I know it’s there, but I don’t know what it is.

I don’t know if I believe in love, but I do certainly believe in the longing for it.

Suppose it wasn’t the boy’s child (the child never existed to be clear). Suppose it belonged to, I will speak plainly, my favorite client, who is an amazing man on paper and slightly less than amazing in person, as all West Indians that I know are. I was, for whatever reason, totally fine with keeping that kid, it would have been smart and beautiful. He has money, but I don’t know if i even would have told him. He probably would have been righteously horrified. But maybe he wouldn’t have been. And why is that slim chance worth more to me than either of these men who would (might) actually want me?

There is so much to say here. I just checked and there is actually plenty of coffee. It is not as hot as I would like.

I feel that there is something wrong with me, physically. I know my shoulder is in pain, the worst pain in a while. I know that my jaw is tight, and cutting off blood to my brain. I know that I have gained weight, though I think I might be coming out of that. The weight is too much for my joints. My feet hurt constantly.

Maybe that’s why I feel so hopeless, so lost, so anhedonic. Why it’s 2 in the afternoon and I’m only just getting it together to come here, despite rolling around in the bed for 90 minutes. Why I fought with the boy last night so that I could smoke a cigarette and sleep alone.

I have to quit smoking. It shouldn’t be allowed to alter my behavior like this. Immediately after I smoked, I was filled with regret for ruining an entire night over it. I should remember that feeling, and keep it as a lesson. I swear I will, maybe not perfectly, but I will.

Going home without him, knowing that there was no chance to have his child this month, it made it easier to pop the pill.

Let’s just let myself think it. Suppose I had a child? I’ll let myself think it, because here there is no risk to thought.

It would be really inconvenient. I don’t know that I could keep my current job, definitely not without some help, but I suppose I would have help. There is my Mother, as terrifying as that is, though it shouldn’t be. There is my Father, as terrifying as that is, though it shouldn’t be. There is my Brother, as terrifying as that is. But there is help.

My Father would disapprove of all these men, save for the client, who would be utterly bewildered by all of it. But maybe not. I don’t really know this man, I have never lived with him, I have some objections to his life, but he never even thought to have objections to mine. Would he?

What would the child think if he never had a father? Is that ok these days? It’s selfish, I know, to deny the child of half of his medical history, half of his identity, and half of what may have been a valuable support system. Although, it might be best, is what I’m thinking.

My side dude, his family is a wreck. Not that mine isn’t. He has a definite drive to do better, and thinks that he would with me, of course he would. The boy, I worry. The boy… I do not want a white baby, I will say it plainly. I do not want a child that will be looked at like a subhuman oddity by his own blood. And I worry that he will.

I should talk to my best friend about this. I should talk to my best friend at all. But why does my phone never ring?

I don’t think the boy will think of his child as less for being Black, but I do worry that he will so willingly, as he does me, dismiss everything that’s outside of his chosen perception as impossibly outside of his understanding and sphere of responsibility. That he’ll dismiss his friend’s racism towards me, and dismiss the worlds racism towards them, and just throw his own tantrums whenever he feel anyone else has a problem that might compete with it.

And I’ll be powerless to do anything about it, like my Mother. I don’t know her motivations, I don’t. However I can certainly feel the frustration of spending so much time dealing with trivial problems that in order to save time, one sacrifices their own emotions just so that there’s enough time in the day, after dealing with everything that is that trifling man, to look at your own kids and maybe make sure they’re fed. I don’t want that life for myself.

So why am I texting this boy and asking him what he’s doing, when I honestly don’t want to see him. My side dude invited me out on a date, a real date, on Friday, and instead I turned it down to sit around and be bored with the boy. I should have went with my side dude, who I lied to and said my Mother was coming over, and she really should have.

I should have stayed in New York for Friday, so that I could sleep with my favorite client again, and that is the God’s motherfucking honest truth right there. That is what should have happened, and that is the lesson that I need to remember. I just hope it’s not too late for me.

I would have coughed up that pill if I thought it was his, and I don’t know why. But I know why.

Should I just suck it up and ask him out?

I think he’d be horrified.

I should text my last ex.

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