teen pregnancy: unfiltered

you started taking irony like pills; yes, that’s when it started. life’s too short and you knew that, so when boys started thinking you were cute that was everything to you. many mistakes were made but that’s life (or so you tell yourself) and so the day you find out, you think, how was i suppose to know it’d come to this?

mother hissed the words at you, ”you were better off dating a plant” and they’re funny in plain sight, but hurts when it hits at 3 am you start silently crying in your room. and you curse at everything when you realize your best friend was right, how changing the locks on your heart, was the truest thing to do at time. but now, it’s too late. so there goes your future dreams, though, there wasn’t much anyway; ’cause you never saw the point in getting a degree of something that doesn’t quite exist besides on a piece of paper they print just for the occasion of your graduation (or so was the thinking your father forced upon you). 

perhaps what’s hurting the most (besides being entirely alone), is knowing your family’s deserted you (mentally of course, because they can’t risk bad publicity or court). like when you run to your cousin but she screams at you: we can’t be the cousins we were five years ago when there’s a kid and motherhood reminding you of the life you decided to live. and forever’s an awfully long time when your family’s condemned you to live in the devil’s land.

and you know better than to think the father’s name (though you do it often enough anyway), since he left you before you even thought about what your options were. yet, part of yourself is too blame too. protection can be a two-way streak and you thought things wouldn’t end up like this; oh, your favourite words were: i thought of him as temporary, can you blame me? but darling, how you’ll forever have a part of him tied to a part of you, in the form of another being to add to this mess you call life.

so here you are, lost and broken and discard and just damn scared. but nonetheless, you kept the baby, because if there was one thing you knew how to do, it was pray she’ll have a better life than you. that’s the one thing you’ll take to the grave with dignity, but in the form of words that’ll sit on your dead lips: she’ll be something, and make up for the nobody i ended up being. every second after her birth you’ll remember to tell her this, it’s the one thing about parenthood you figured out how to do. ’cause even if there’s no right thing in parenting, there’s most definitely a wrong and you did that. though, you’re sorry, and you constantly tell her that.