Saturday, the first of November, still no period. I feel just like it's going to start, but where is it? Could I really and seriously
Sunday, today. Third day of the wait. I wake up at the asscrack of dawn with a mess to clean. It seems I am really and seriously not pregnant. It seems no-luck fucks like me don't ever get a break.
I'm angry. At myself, for actually getting my hopes up, and at the world - at good old Mother Nature - for piling one more shitty thing on my shoulders. I'm angry at the women who get oopspregnant, at the women who get pregnant their first try. I'm angry at the crackheads who have babies, when I can't even have one when I stop drinking my morning cup of coffee and the occasional glass of wine.
I guess it goes without saying that I'm hurt, too, for all the same reasons. What makes me so different? Some would say that it's just not god's plan for me. I would say that god can go fuck his fucking self, because his plan for me is SHIT (mmmm, sacrilegious).
What could be the second reason? Anyone? ANYONE? Bueller? Bueller?
There is no reason. I just have terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad luck. And there is nothing I can do about it, except wait. Wait, for three years, five years, whatever, until Sid decides to send me back on this rollercoaster for the THIRD FUCKING TIME. I don't want to do it again. I don't want to give up and wait. But I don't have much of a choice. And I'm so fucking mad at him for it.
I think that's the worst part of it.