Many people hate me. I realized this with a starting horror today as I sifted through my old photos. Nearly- no, every single person is either a glancing face or someone who detests me now.

Faces I have smiled beside. People I have spent more than half my life with.

It must be fair- it has to be. Bad things don't come in spades- they come in fucking decks. This is not coincidence. I am not absolved of guilt. I was horrible. I was evil, even.

I did not care for anyone but myself. I drained people until they were husks simply because I couldn't create my own joy, my own purpose, my own love.

So I stole all of theirs, and that of their families until I felt full, though I was a beast with a bottomless pit for a stomach so it took years for them to feel truly and completely bereft of life due to how methodical I was. Pepper them with love until they felt assuaged, then take and take and...

I am 22 in four days. And I am hated with the ferocity of what I amassed as a teenager. I am now facing the brunt of it all, as I see those same friends interact with each other and celebrate their accomplishments. As they leave me now behind. I stand still, surrounded by crumbling towers and displaced bricks in the form of the pressure I strapped to the shoulders of guileless children who were responsible for my life, weighed down until now.

I deserve to be hated. I was sick, though it is no excuse. My mind waged war on itself and I selfishly fought to survive. But I cannot fix what I have done. I carry the same scars of my old friends, though they think it was my careless wrist that sunk the blade and not one missed as I tried to gut myself. My other self. The evil that lurked since I was still chubby-fisted and wobbly in my movements.

Why do I suffer for pain I caused, because of the pain I received when I was too young to spell my own name?

Nothing had gone right for her. Behind on her rent, she was unemployed and without the car that had been repossessed. She was in collections. But none of that mattered.

She wanted a child.

Yet, all of her relationships had devolved into screaming matches and slammed doors. She knew it was her fault, with her constant despair and Debbie Downer observations, her temper tantrums, and her micromanaging. How could she have a child without the involvement of some man?

In vitro fertilization!

Her sister had done it, but she had spent a fortune. Now the pressure was on, with her sister having a baby. Yet, she couldn't afford what it cost to fulfill her pregnancy plans since the conventional way was beyond her reach. That costs money. Lots of money. Over $10,000 per cycle.

Where would she get the money? What if it took more than one cycle? More than three? Or four? She would only cry herself to sleep as she schemed unsuccessfully for ideas to get her hands on some cash.

Then she had a dream. She dreamed her problems were over. But could she actually rob a bank and make her dreams come true?

How hard could it be? You go in, wave a gun — unloaded was OK — and hand over the note. No more worries over money. No more angst over how to pay for in vitro fertilization. And if the first cycle didn't take, no more worries about how to pay for the next one. Or the next one.

She bought her gun. She wrote her note. She rehearsed her getaway, unfortunately, on foot. Still, she would be in and out so fast, just turning down an alley would befuddle anyone trying to tail her. Most bank robberies have a car for getaway, right? She would use this to her advantage.

The day came.

She changed her blonde hair to brunette with a wig. Simple. She wore a COVID mask as she walked to the bank. No one would find that unusual, even now, right?

She entered the bank. She looked around cautiously. No Security Guard! How could that be? Nevertheless, she took it as a sign that God was on her side. After all, she was going to give Him a brand new soul to love.

She approached the counter. She brandished the gun. The person behind the counter went white.

"Just do what I say, and no one gets hurt," she instructed her. She handed her the note. Obediently, the bank personnel scrambled to retrieve her loot for her. As instructed, they placed all the frozen vials in the cooler she had brought with her. It had wheels, so she could just roll it out, even with all of its extra weight.

She knew she was ovulating. Hell, the excitement of the robbery probably had spiked her hormones. As she escaped with many hundreds of men from whom to choose, she would begin her pregnancy journey tonight!