Humanity

There's something so morbid, humiliating, depressing and so surreal about having to wrap up your own placenta in a plastic cup, cling film and foil.

U feel as though it's a scene right out of a William Burroughs novel.

A flash of a crack whore's nightmare. Almost gory-ly funny in that twisted Tarantino-esque way.

Then you suddenly realise that it's happening to YOU right now in real time. That's a bloody chunk of your own human flesh that you are wrapping up in the middle of your kitchen in the dead of night.

There's nothing worse...except the moment U gawk in horror at the blood covered mass that just came out of you.
Bloody, veiny, spongy......damn it looks like chicken liver. What the fuck is it?!
You call your doctor in a panic. He tells you to bag it for him to examine the next morning.
No matter how many seasons of CSI you've watched, nothing quite prepares you for bagging your own flesh.

Miscarriage. What a fucking stupid euphemism, makes it sound like you took the wrong train.

Everyone tells U it's normal, it's common. It's Nature's way, it's in God's plan.

WELL FUCK THAT.

So what if it happened to a thousand other people?
It's my loss and my pain and it's all new to me.
So DON'T FUCKING TELL ME IT'S NORMAL.

Some days I'm so angry. I want to destroy everything, kill everyone, beat the shit out of people who make me so miserable.

Other days I'm just so tired of fighting. Don't want to try anymore. Just want to fade into the cool darkness of night, stay there, hibernate, hide.

Anxiety lies where peace should prevail.