Obsessed by a fairy tale, searching for a magic door and a lost kingdom.

        Once upon a time in a faraway land, lived a prince. His mother did not name him but whispers within herself will never let her forget the name she never gave, and to speak or hear spoken the name of the loved stranger often leaves her forlorn and sick at heart. The syllables cut through her like the same tool used to severe umbilical connection, leaving only a DNA imprint now and forever. I gave him a kingdom, I gave Brayden the chance to live happily ever after. I granted both princes as well as the princess, a wish, no a promise, of a fairy tale life. Or at least a happy ending. The End.

I don't fear death, I fear an un-lived life.

        When I stalk (I'm not crazy I'm just bored), I notice my former classmates or acquaintances are in school, they're working parents, most of them are in loving relationships, they are able to keep their children and I assume that they don't feel the abundance of guilt that I do. They were fortunate enough to settle down into a life not lead by pain but, lead for living. And here I am, a single parent with no prospects of love (I don't have the normal urges to share, communicate, to touch and be touched. for all intents and purposes, I'm the definition of dead. I don't talk to others, I don't have many emotions because I suppress them all to keep the pain at bay. Dead is what I feel inside er, more like a semi-dead (I'm not an emo poet).

This world to me is like a lasting storm.

        Last night the wind came knocking on my window. I woke in the twilight of my dreams and reality, I thought it was you. I thought it was you tapping as you so often used to do. Alas, there's no storm strong enough to carry you to me.

Quack! Quack!

        Duncan at the duck pond/park.

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No one or someone.

        I lived in the role of no one to some, the no one that their someone doesn't know about. The no one that isn't cared about. Surely I'm someone's someone. Am I, could I be? Was I ever your somebody?

There are some you wish you never had to think about again, but you do.

        Today was the day of my great surrender, 10 days from now my parental rights will be legally terminated. I feel a sense of relief knowing everything is settled and secure. I also feel a sense of profound loss.

        I want to thank everyone in my life for their thoughts and concern and although I may not appear to be touched, please know that I am. The truth is, I'm not as strong as others perceive me to be. I cry myself to sleep every night, when I manage to go to sleep it's not restful sleep. I'm plagued by this one reoccurring dream almost every night, about a broken crib. I'm screaming and crying that this crib is broken and that my baby cannot sleep here. Just as I am crying in the dream, I wake myself up crying for real. That's why I cannot/do not want to sleep.

        The pain is forever unyielding and I don't think it will get better, I'll just learn to live with. I know some are worried because I don't talk about it verbally, that's only because I can't talk about it. I'll fall apart.

        I want to also thank those who have offered me help, and I would accept your help gratefully if I could, I just feel that some crosses you have to bare alone. Making others feel as miserable as I do would in no way make me feel better. Having him here with me would make this particular pain subside but bring on an arrangement of other pain. Guilt for taking him from Stephanie and David when they obviously love him, the added strain on the entire household to accommodate my selfishness. Those things which are precious are saved only by sacrifice, my happiness for the happiness of the ones I love.

My love is trapped.

        Idling deep in thought, somewhere in the distance down the hall I can hear Jenna and Duncan giggling at their bedtime movie, then a strange thought occurred to me: Ever since my milk came in yesterday, I've checked my shirt to see if I had leaked and I do this because I remember that after Duncan was born, I leaked almost all the time. But with Brayden, I haven't leaked a single drop. It made me wonder why. I'm not leaking is because he's not here?

I am a deeply superficial person.

        The search for an adoptive family is still so hard. I read pages and pages of letters from hopeful adoptive parents to perspective birth parents and they all just seem so fake. That doesn't work for me. I want to know what these people are really like.

        Just small things like what they do when they're bored, what entertains them when it's too rainy or hot or cold to go outside, what kinda movies they like, what kinda TV they watch, what makes them go. I just wish these letters were a little more real, instead of this:

        "Jane loves being a mother. Her favorite part of the day is story time before bed. Movie night at home is a favorite, when Dick pops popcorn and Jane bakes cookies. She likes to sew and decorate our home. We enjoy going to sporting events together, from professional baseball and hockey games to little league baseball and soccer games. Blah blah blah."

I'm sorry.

        Without doubt those in my life are undeniably fed-up with me. Once this is over, I will be even more withdrawn. If I do nothing but take care of my children, then I can make no more mistakes. To those who care, to those who know, I'm sorry.

Is there a safe haven for me?

        Open confession is good for the soul or at least that's what Scottish proverbs say. Deep in my heart I'm concealing this, and I'm terrified. Some of you may know this, some may not. I'm 29 weeks into a hidden pregnancy, which means I have 11 weeks to go. I'm so lost when it comes to this; I have no clue where to start. Do I contact a reputable adoption agency and find an adoptive couple? Can I give the baby to social services for placement? I know I can drop the baby at a Safe Haven, but I'd really rather just surrender my parental rights and let the state decide on a good home.

Mum's the word.

        Your shadow of doubt is precisely where it should be Mom. Until now I've assured you otherwise, lied, but with the best of intentions. I don't regret keeping my secret from even you, I'm just sorry that you had to find out at all. I'm sorry because I didn't want to break your heart yet again. My situation is a consequence of another mistake made by (surprise, surprise) me. My past and present is bursting with indiscretions, that combined with the inability to learn from my mistakes, is the reason I've arrived here. Those I love feel the pangs meant for only me and I only wanted to avoid causing anymore trouble for those who I've already brought a lifetime of turmoil. Obviously, denial has an expiration date in these situations and I knew eventually I would no longer be able to outrun the truth. Had Heather not cried witch, I could have spared you the weeks of immanent dread. It's something I'd never want to impose on another person. The torture of being able to think of nothing else for days, for weeks, for months has eroded me

        It's too late to salvage, the position is too far gone. I have enough right mind left to know that adoption is now the only option, the only door left to take. I really didn't want anyone to know, not dad.

It's the little things.

        When love is eclipsing for good, you miss the oddest things. I miss how aggravated he'd get when we'd run into a guy I knew before him, I know that it just meant that he was jealous he didn't get me before he did. I miss, how no matter what hour or what was going on in our lives, a random trip to Wal-mart would always make him and I both feel happier. I miss all the places he used to show me and the stories that went. I even fucking miss how he'd want me to sit with him in the bathroom. To know of him loving someone else, really and truly hurts me boundlessly. Even though we've been separated for quite a while, I can absolutely feel that neither none of the guys I know now nor any I meet in the future, can ever make me feel like only he can. No one compares, no one will ever compare. I feel sorry for my future lovers because anything that might have been will be over before we even meet, just because they are not and never will be him. I love him and always will love him unconditionally. We are definitely finished.

I hope he fucking chokes on the chicken.

        How's this work? I do everything I know to do and somehow it's never right, to him at least. He negatively criticizes everything I do. I help to make dinner (chicken and dressing prepared the night before and cooked in the slow cook all day) he makes comments about how it's burnt or that I didn't stir it well enough. How can one fail at stirring? If you're me, I guess it's possible.

How's this for coping?

        Cope. This would be easier to cope with on a cold metal table, in a paper gown, with my feet in stirrups. No, this is personal. I'll be coping probably on the cold diamond shaped tiles on the bathroom floor, staring at where the cabinet knobs should be under the lights of those bulbs that last a really long time, my fucking dad bought them and they're just too bright. In this room, leaning on the badly painted walls, I'll be surrounded by dirty laundry and I'll be adding to the pile.

When will my playmate come out, come out, wherever you are.

        One-alligator... at a bowling alley I was was arrested by his smile. Two-alligator... at the mall, I found hope that was better let down after-all. Three-alligator... at a retail store I was caught when I didn't know I was hiding. This perpetual game of Hide-and-seek is exasperating. Have I been overlooked in my hiding place? Is home base really more shielding than this place? Should I make a dash? Playing a game which has has no winners in the end seems asinine, I'll hold my sanctuary just the same. Ally ally in come free, my heart will not be tricked again. Bearing with composure, I wait to hear a few words, "ready or not, here I come".

I suppose, I'm only lonely because I build walls instead of bridges.

        I am so very lonely. I was born alone, I live mostly alone, and I will die alone. I created the illusion for the moment that I was not alone, I know most certainly that I am almost completely alone in this world.