I had one of the worst periods on record this cycle. Not even by level of pain, not that it wasn’t horrible in that regard as well, but this was the first time I’ve been so fully depressed by the physical fact. I felt so empty, so truly and completely empty in the physically female sense. My body, mind and being mourned the fact that I wasn’t pregnant.

Everything was setting me off: car commercials, passing the baby clothes, even my pumpkin plants having been ravished by wildlife. The only thing that came close before was a dream I once had about a dead child, when I was late, the night before I finally got my period. But even that dream, when I shed tears in the morning, didn’t leave me feeling so empty and depressed. I was in such a depression by my period it’s still unsettling. As I get older (funny how 28 is old when it comes to child bearing) I’m starting to get aware and concerned by the limited number of eggs versus the fertile years, and all of the other female insanity. It’s a fact that I’m on a biological schedule. I have only a fixed number of eggs – assuming any of them are fertile to begin with – and therefore a natural time limit. And I’m fearing, and feeling, that limit.

And I suppose I’m scared that this sever feeling of being empty is a sign that I’m running out of time for this.

I have this itchy, annoying desire to tell A about my grandmother’s passing – which is ridiculous! I’m mostly sure he barely cared about me when we were fucking, I doubt he’d even remember me now. And we haven’t communicated since last February. But the thing is that She (her being palliative) was the driving force behind me hooking up with A in the first place. Both the freedom of her not being at home (which sounds awful, but if you know the history it makes sense) and constantly facing death pushed me to live a little. And the whole affair with A was just that. Even if I sabotaged it all because I couldn’t fuck him like a man and my heart got involved.We'd also talk about it a fair bit, either on her porch or over the computer, even his own fears about his mother.

And this isn’t about D, or the new promise ring on my finger, it is part of wrapping all things up with A. Because...I still have some baggage there.

This might be irrational, even down right, borderline, bad-girlfriend crazy but every time he mentions something that happened while he was with his ex he says “we”. And every single time, those two tiny letters (which have such a massive connotation) make my skin crawl.  It’s jealousy. That I’m sure of. But, to be jealous of things that happened before is a little excessive. Even I think that. But I think there are a few reasons for it: for one the “we” word in regards to them seems to leave him lips a lot more often than “we” in regards to he and I. And that makes me sad. Like it makes me sad that there are so many things that aren’t going to either happen or count with he and I because of that “we”. It’s like I’m missing out on something (which is a feeling I get fairly often since he is my first actual boyfriend.) And it doesn’t help that she doesn’t understand what an EX means, and continues to try and poke herself into his life all the time. It just acts like such a reminder, and not one that I really need. And it really does feel like competition. There’s no other real way to explain it, but all the “we”s and the attempts at popping up make me feel like I’m in competition.

And have I ever mentioned how much I hate that she has his last name?