Out of office reply

I got this idea for a sort story about a man typing up his suicide note in his out of office reply.

This is a brilliant idea remains a morbid blog post for now.

Talk, talk and talk some more

The man I love is the best listener. His ears are strong pillars of our relationship. I can talk to him for hours.
We listend to the swanlake yesterday and I was mentally unloading and emotionally oversharing on our tiny broken coutch.
In my defence: I did not cry and he prompted it.

He asked me:

What are you worried about? Those five little words spell Pandora's box with a handful of hormones, and he knew.

Worries are the evil twin of daydreams I have come to believe.

I should not take them seriously.

Day of the Dead

Halloween for most of you serves me with the unexpected pleasure of a day of.
I could get used to this, I am training myself to let go of carrier and prepare for the other option.
We, the fetus and I hit 3 months yesterday.
This is an important milestone in pregnancy. This is when they stop talking about miscarrige and start with the Down syndrome, and the voluntary termination of pregnancy.
I am also supposed to feel a sudden surge of energy about now, but I think it is just a physical illusion for those who spend the first few months of this blessed state projectile vomiting.