cara

As the months went by, my belly grew and so was my anxiety. I could not believe I would be giving my baby away but I also could not imagine his or her life with me. A scared and depressed mother was not an ideal life for a baby at least that was not a life I would imagine for my baby. Every day I sat down and thought about my childhood with my parents when everything was flowers and sunshine and wish that wherever my baby would go would have the same which was unlikely.

I had time to think about where I was going to place my baby and an idea struck. Before my mother died, she used to donate to an orphanage not far from here and I really hoped it was the best place and prayed every day that my child would make happy memories there. My depression is worse than ever, I can't stomach anything and there are mornings I feel like giving up and end it all but I keep holding on for my baby.

The only positive thing from my entire existence. Crying has been another hobby of mine, sometimes I don't even know why am crying, it just feels like taking a long warm shower after years of accumulating dirt, though there are some stains it wouldn't remove it feels cleansing .

I have been wondering if anyone was looking for me but I would not be surprised if no one was because I had alienated the few friends I had when my depression struck. The rest were Brendon friends and am sure they hated me even more seeing as they never liked me from the first place, they tolerated me for Brendon's sake and I was alright with it.

Looking back at my life I realized that I was never happy and that Brendon was the only person that was holding me together. Thinking about him and all he did to me was still painfully raw, I always ended having panic attacks every time I thought about him and tried to keep him a bay of my thought to avoid doing something that would harm my baby.