Grocery shopping results in tears. Every other person has a baby, or a little girl. The baby section is always there, threatening to attack and overwhelm me with diapers, little dresses, and onesies. Luckily, the alcoholic beverages are located just across the aisle.
I resort to a childish temper-tantrum in my head, it sounds something like this: It’s not fair it’s not fair it’s NOT FAIR IT’S NOT FAIR!!!!!!!
I want my baby back. I want all of this to go away, the horror of existing, the hours that drag on and on and on. Time is cruel. The past has taken my daughter too far away already, the future is a black cloud I can’t bear to imagine.