Thursday, June 05, 2008
She did it. She got herself knocked up and is going to spawn. I am going gun shopping at lunch to find something that will end my life quickly and painlessly. Can't handle her being pregnant for the next nine months. Just can't. Every day will be just about her and only her. What if the gun misfires though and it leaves me in a vegetative state where the only thing that is in my mind is this photo of her and I have to live with it, never moving staring at me for the rest of my life. Oh, the horror.
Please tell me I'm wrong and that the stories and whispers I am hearing today are my imagination. Please tell me no one would be willing to enter there without a hefty bag for their protection. Please, oh, please make it go away. Make the voices stop.