There are some days that are just so damn hard. Days that I miss my mother. Days that I am so angry about our relationship and how damaged and broken I will always be because of it. Days I’m so angry at my first husband for his choices. Days I am so angry at my second husband for being so careless with my heart. Days I grieve over my missed pregnancies. Days I hate myself for being thirty and having two ex husbands. Days I hate myself for getting married to get away from my mother. Days I’m so angry she died the way she did and left me to raise my little brother and sister and care for my elderly father. Days I am so resentful. Days I’m terrified that even though I and got good grades and didn’t do drugs and didn’t get pregnant young I won’t have a happy ending and I’ll always be alone. Days I’m angry that I’ve let myself become what I am. Days I feel so damn alone. Days I just don’t want to live, days I want to crawl into bed and never crawl out. But then there are days that are better but you never know which one it’s gonna be. So you lay in bed in the morning and try to gather the strength just to get up because what if it’s not one of the good days. What if it’s one of the shitty days? And that’s it. That’s my life.