He isn't much yet but he could be anything he wants, he's just a tennis ball waiting to be bounced into the world and caught in the arms of those who whisper coos to him though he can't hear. He could be anything. He could be a she and she could be into writing like me or forging paths or acting. It's too soon to tell but it's never too soon to imagine and when I saw the results I could see her, blue eyes, brown hair, beautiful. More beautiful than anything that's ever existed. In the dimples and the gangly limbs, I've never met it and I would do anything for it. For this baby. I want it to be safe and never worry about the bad things in the world I feel like I need to chase out the dark minded people to create space for all the good this baby will do, because she's capable of doing so much good. And so is he if that's what he chooses to be and that would be fine with me. I'd teach him the fragility of his heart and how he must handle those he desires with care, I'd teach him to not let anyone walk over him but to never directly hurt another person. I'd show him pictures of the adventures he missed out on and read him whatever book he wants how ever many times he wants to hear it, I'll teach him you are my sunshine, the wheels on the bus, and every backstreet boy song so he never feels behind. I'd help him grow and be his support until he can stand on his own but even then I would stay close by. This heart inside my chest has never been mine to own completely, it was meant to be shared and he can have it all because there's nothing I wouldn't do for him. For her. For it. For this baby. To say I'm scared is an understatement, but this love is undeniably existent flushing through my body like its electricity shivering through my veins, my heart has never pounded so hard, my eyes have never been so wet as when I knew for sure its here, but I've never felt more alive and strong and pure either. You're good, and you're loved, and I pray you never feel empty. You will forget but I will remind you that life is hard but you are blessed and everything will be okay. At the very least, in the worst of times I will always make sure you will be okay.

It's almost funny how things change. How surprised I am that no matter how stuck in the past I tend to be life around me still moves on, it's like my heart beats backwards while time ticks forward. My heart beats rapidly, knowing where I was going before I recognized the turns I was taking. I'm a sucker for memories and I came here to try and breathe like I used to be able to do but it's different. The snow has melted much like who I used to be and there are no deep conversations just a half moon and a lit up skyline. I want to lean against the rails and remember the ghost of somebody who pressed me up against them but much like him they're gone. They were thrown away like our time together. I remember walking along the edge to overlook the chunks of ice thinking maybe if I fell onto one of them they'd take me somewhere better, now I'm too scared to climb up. How many calories would I burn falling into the lapping waves and fighting to not drown in them? Not enough. Never enough. And I want to say that's not the point but it is. I can't see a forward so I walk backwards and retrace the steps to who I used to be and it brings me back to sickness and I don't want to fight it because pills have to be taken with food and I don't eat enough to fit them into my life. This is what I've become, or its who I've always been. All I can think about is how alone I am and will be and I'm over the moon that soon I'll have everyone I love with me again, it tears me apart to think of when they leave, leave me to figure out if I'm more than any alibi I've ever shown. I'm trapped and I chose this for myself but that doesn't make it hurt any less. It was a self fulfilling prophecy, I wanted to escape who I've been but she catches up with me every time I cry in the parking lot I used to feel so alive in, every time I hear about self inflicted wounds I remember the feeling of my own and I wish they were there again to remind me I'm human and I should treat myself as such. But I'm empty, as empty as the railing that doesn't recognize me as empty as the ice less water and as empty as a plate of food. I'm not sick I'm stuck and I don't want help my Astoria will claim me and when it does I'll claw my way out because I'm a fighter and no matter what I've been through I've always proved that. My mother told me I always play the victim when I try to tell her how I feel and I let her have that. The only victim I've ever been is a victim of myself, of my mind and my heart and I'd dare say my soul if I thought I had one. There's no philosopher in the world who can save me now and no person who thinks to. I don't want to be saved, I just want to feel alive. And some days I do but today I don't. Right now I just want to close my eyes and remember things my brain has let disappear, I want to make something out of nothing and tell someone how I feel without thinking I'm being too much trouble or drawing attention to myself. I want to be alive again but I let such little things **** me slowly and its up to me. Always up to me.