Ever since I was young, I would think about families. The good ones and the bad ones, and I don’t think I ever really thought about it being mine until I was slightly older. And then it was only about finding a guy that I thought would be perfect for me. Then I had a couple boyfriends and I learned a lot about the kind of person that I wanted to be with. The kind of person I wanted to be a big part of my world and that would influence everything about me. Someone who could know everything about me and accept it for whatever it truly was, someone who felt like they could always be honest with me even if they think I won’t like it, because they trust that I will try to understand, someone to talk to and hold me during one of my crippling depressive states, who would try to keep me out of trouble but go along with my mood swings and crazy impulsive ideas just because they love me, and wouldn’t try to change a thing about me. Someone I could be whatever they needed me to be for us. Someone I could be happy making happy.

But lately I have been realizing a lot of things. Life sucks sometimes and it will throw a lot at you. Things that I like to think help to make us better people, and help us grow to as much of our full potential that is possible, a little bit at a time. And some stuff happened last year that I could and should have stopped from happening but that I didn’t really want to stop. And no matter how much I wish that things didn’t end up the way that they did,  I am glad to have had the experience, because as much as it hurt afterwards...it was real and amazing at the time, something worth remembering. Hopefully something like that won’t happen again, because I don’t ever want to feel that way again. The sad thing about it is that it really is all my fault and anything I could try to do to make it better would only make it worse.

Along with all this, and a big part in the disaster of the summer...I got pregnant. I always thought that I would wait at least until after I turned 23, so, needless to say I was scared and I still am, but I have to trust in myself to be a good mother. Certainly nothing like my mother. Most of the time it doesn't feel real and I have to tell myself a few times everyday that “Dude, you are pregnant” but it never really sinks in, except a little when I think about all the stress I have had to deal with before and during the beginning of school, what if I miscarry?

And then I think, what will happen to Patrick? How will it affect him, and will I even be bothered? Sometimes I think that it would be better if I did have a miscarriage, for several reasons. Then I think, this is another thing I let happen and unlike the other things I can’t just let it go. There is no waiting to see what happens or letting it work itself out, I have to deal with this. And as much as a lot of people weren't and still aren't happy about it, I’m going to do this and make the best of it no matter what any stuck up fake dramatist has to say and spread around behind my back. In my opinion if you aren’t real enough to come up and ask me the truth, or simply know me better than that, then you aren’t worth my time. And god help you if I am around and hear you saying ridiculous crap about my child, because I protect what is mine to the best of my abilities and this baby is mine, so be careful and use the sense god gave you before opening your mouth.

You either get bitter or you get better. Its that simple. You either take what has been dealt to you and allow it to make you a better person, or you allow it to tear you down. The choice does not belong to fate, it belongs to you.   You can’t change how people treat you or what they say about you. All you can do is control the way you react to it.