The only good thing is that miraculously, somehow I make it through classes and so no one else, other than my girls, knows what is up.
I thought they would judge me when I told them. I thought they’d call me an idiot. If not that, then at least a cliché. A high school, small town statistic.
Because I’ve called myself that. A million times since I found out last Thursday in the woods.
I’ve called myself names.
I’ve called myself a stupid, idiot slut who couldn’t keep her legs closed for her almost ex-boyfriend. A stupid, idiot slut who didn’t think about condoms.
Who couldn’t move on and now her life is ruined.
In my most emotional and irrational moments — which have been a lot in the past week — I’ve cursed at him. I’ve hated him for ever coming into my life, for making me fall in love with him,for being so difficult to forget, so difficult to hate and so easy to love.
I’ve thought about not telling him too.
I’ve thought about keeping it a secret.
Just to spite him. Just to make him suffer. Just because he hurt me two years ago and just because I don’t want anything to do with him.
I don’t know. I’m irrational.
And pregnant.
I am pregnant.
Pregnant, pregnant,pregnant.
At eighteen.
I’m freaking pregnant.
It’s a word that never ever gets out of my head now. I keep saying it to myself and I keep touching my belly.
I keep thinking about what I’ll do.
How can I ever turn this around? What good can ever come out of this?
I’m ruined, aren’t I?
My life is ruined.
But then two days ago I woke up and my mind was clear.
It was so clear that I decided something.
I decided that I could call myself names and cry about what happened. I could call it a mistake and curse at the fates. I could punish myself like I’ve always done. Or I could wipe my tears and take charge.
I could make a plan. I could be strong like my mom was and do what needs to be done.
Besides, punishing myself in the past has never worked, has it?
Something thathetaught me himself.
So I’m not going to do it again, and this time I have someone else to think about other than myself.
So I’ve been reading up at the library.
Apparently, they have pregnancy books. Like actual pregnancy books, not biology stuff. I wonder who thought to add those to the catalog, at a girl’s reform school no less.
