1 7 0 9 2 0 0 8
They are just numbers. Random numbers that don't even run in sequence. Numbers that to anyone else would mean absolutely nothing. However to me, they are another unfulfilled dream. Numbers that refer to another day that two didn't become three. Another day I didn't become a parentt.
1 7 0 9 2 0 0 9
More numbers. Again random, that don't run in sequence. Again numbers that to anyone else would mean absolutely nothing. However to me, they signify a whole year. 365 days that have passed, in which nothing major has happened except that I've lost yet another baby.
Today was a hard day, a very hard day. And I felt so very very alone. I wandered aimlessly around Ikea this afternoon. I hadn't wanted to spend the afternoon alone but with BikerMan working to the evening and all my 'friends' busy and unable to offer me any time, it was alone I spent it. Alone but surrounded by people, as well as lots of babies and lots of pregnant bellies.
No matter where I went today, the universe was determined to surround me with the things I crave the most, babies and pregnant bellies. Everywhere as far as the eye can see.
Ikea normally cheers me up, it's like Mecca, where I go to pray as Ikea and all it's designers are God. Today it was like there was a funeral around every corner. I walked around the displays aimlessly barely registering what I was looking at, picking up a items here and there. After I'd made it back to the car, I sat down, closed and locked the door and sobbed my heart out.
Despite being around loads of people all day I felt like I was falling back into a pool, slowly drowning and all I can see is the light slowly fading and as much as I scream no one can hear me.
And in 23 days I get to do it all over again......unless I manage to "get over it and stop feeling sorry for myself"......
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