Rewind this picture by like five seconds to where Charlie Brown is just coming up to make the kick and that is how I feel about trying for a baby again in a little while here. We'll be trying in just a few weeks. Would wait a little longer if we could, but ti-i-i-ime is not on our side. No, it's not.
Who is Lucy? Is God Lucy? Is the not-here baby Lucy? Who's freaking me out? Somebody is. Somebody's holding the football.
Listen, football holder. Why did you do what you did? See, this is where it's not so hot when you don't believe in an empty, random universe. If I really felt this all were empty and random, I'd have my answer. No reason! But I do think that things happen for a reason, and I'm not feeling so dialed-in to this one. If this wasn't a good time to be born, why break my heart like that? Why didn't you just wait until the better time in the first place? Who am I talking to? The baby? Who's in charge, here? What the hell happened? What was THAT all about? Are you fucking with me?
I'm afraid to want the baby again. I feel muffled about it. I feel flat and glum and not wanting to be fucked with. I was so excited before and I don't feel it now. LaKetch advised me to just go for it, and allow myself to really want the baby. It's good advice, but I can tell that to do that I'm going to have to feel a bunch of pain that I'm squishing down. Damn. She's right, but I don't know when exactly I'm going to kick off that weepfest. When's good? When's good for one of those? I know. A little bit LATER.
But it can't be a lot later. I'm too OLD.
I'm just going to swipe at the keyboard with my paws now, self-pity style:
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That is all.