Is This What It's Like?
One of those days. I am trapped inside my mind, like Luke and Leia in the Death Star's trash compactor.
Some of it has to do with the fucking unfairness of the world. If you tell me that you can read any of these links without crying (even if you're a crying on the inside kind of clown), then you're a damn liar.
Some of it has to do with just being me at this point in my life. With trying to pretend that I'm happy to be pregnant, when in fact I'm terrified. Fear about this baby being autistic has me paralyzed. I can't sleep properly, speak properly, or read anything more than three paragraphs long. I'm not writing or drawing. I will drone on about three subjects: My kids, my stupid neighbors, and...oh, wait, that's only two.
So, if I seemed disinterested or detached lately, don't take it personally. It's not you. Unless you really are boring.