This is a hard one to write, but Eddie read my blog and liked the fact that I don’t leave space for bullshit, that I normally go straight to the point. So here we go…
Part of one of my instagram pictures, two portraits by sophieandlili, some abstract watercolor and another instagram picture, with some of picmonkey’s editing tools showing.
On February 21st 2013 I was flat on my back in some park down in Australis, I was in a pseudo black out after a 1,200 dollar bill ingest from a bar and a series of five-shots-for-a dollar-shot-battles with L. It was 4:00 am and we were the only ones left, since it was a Wednesday and people had priorities over drinking and inhaling their college tuition away; we obviously didn’t. The events of that night go like this: we get kicked out of the bar because our make out session got too intense, we walk to the park, a block away. I see him, then the trees, then the moon, I fall on my back and suddenly he’s on top of me. I black out. A seizure brings me back to consciousness, seconds later he’s zipping up his jeans and I’m crying uncontrollably -it was my first seizure, I was terrified-. I got pregnant that night and lost the baby five weeks later due to cocaine use.
I didn’t think much of it until that November -when he would have been born-, and when Romi, Emilia and Sophia implied it was a good thing I had lost it because I was a train wreck, I was only slightly hurt. When it finally DID hit me I asked L. to call me and told him about it, I hadn’t told anyone except those three girls. We talked for three hours and it was done.
While hallucinating I saw a baby playing on my kitchen floor a couple of times and I figured out it was S (yes, he had a name), he looked like a handsomer version of L, with darker hair too, because L is practically blond.
Looking at it in retrospective, it triggered the two most hardcore periods of my drug-use both in February and in November.
Someone would be fifteen months today.
I eat my dinner in my bathtub Then I go to sex clubs Watching freaky people gettin’ it on It doesn’t make me nervous If anything I’m restless Yeah, I’ve been around and I’ve seen it all
I get home, I got the munchies,
Binge on all my Twinkies
Throw up in the tub
Then I go to sleep
And I drank up all my money
Dazed and kinda lonely
You’re gone and I gotta stay
High all the time
To keep you off my mind
Gotta stay high all my life to forget I’m missing you
Staying in my play pretend where the fun ain’t got no end Ooh Can’t go home alone again Need someone to numb the pain.
Nine of my instagran pictures, two good quotes and some roses.
I mourned, I talked about it in meetings, I -sort of- got over it.
Until the Super Bowl.
I can talk about rape like I’m describing the left shark’s dance moves, but miscarriages rip a bit of me every time I think of them.
I had my first fight with Lautrec hours before the Super Bowl, I wrote about it in Lautrec and we went home, right after our #PatsNation friends started being annoying, for our first ever -HORRAY!- make up sex session. Ten minutes later he says something smells like blood, and there’s a Pollock in our sheets.
More blood that I had ever seen, S wasn’t so flashy.
I had had my period a week before and he suggested the nonsense idea that our make up sex tactics were just too rough.
-Impossible, with that much blood an injury would hurt like hell.
I felt nothing, and from that moment on -and the next two weeks, until we talked about it- I literally felt nothing.
Two miscarriages in less than two years. The gynecologist says something about hormones, a zygote’s attachment process and then he goes mute in my head
Is there a Guinness World record for that?
Lautrec and I minutes before the Super Bowl, the Guinness World Records Logo, and another instagram pic.
Like with S, I wasn’t even sure I was pregnant. The only thing I remember about S is having this sort of intuition and a weird feeling that made me want to improve. I had a flush of positive energy rushing around my veins
I’ll eat organic, work out, quit smoking, quit drugs, make a real effort at school and at work, I’ll turn my life around!
He was gone before I could do any of those things, and I just sank deeper. I’m no longer hurt when I think of him -I think it was a he, I guess it’s another intuitive thing- bur while using I was in panic, I could picture him in some sort of Hades.
-What if he’s scared, what if he’s cold?
– I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. I never meant for anything like this to happen.
The picture of a frozen Acheron crossed my mind as I cried myself until the sun came up.
Things are ok now, I wasn’t -and I’m not- planning to have children until I’m in my late twenties, but the thought of the miscarriages still stings me, as nothing else ever has. Stoneland at night, a quote, and a not-so-populated area of Wreck City, sponsored by my instagram.
Are there any topics you haven’t written about because they are painful?