Mental health is a fickle bitch. I’m on top of this though. I’m going to let it do its thing. I’m not going to hold back and I’m not going to judge myself.
A 327 day journey ended in 49 seconds. I could see his face in my daydreams. Chubby cheeks and jet black hair. I imagined his weight, I could feel him. Nursing him. His smell. Bathing him. He existed. In our hearts and in a Petri dish. Two of them. Boys.