A Dream Deferred

I thought I'd marry the one that would fight me when I was wrong, leave the Army to be the wife and mother. I thought I'd never look back, never have regrets, never feel that pain a second time, never hate myself for growing up, and never hurt over someone else's choices ever again.

I was wrong.

It's almost midnight, and I'm sitting up, on the verge of tears, missing so many things I once had. I miss Danger, I miss the marriage I once had, I miss the baby girl I never got to hold, I miss the days I thought I had a real mother, I miss the days I didn't want anything to do with marriage or children, the days before I knew what rape was like, what pain miscarriage could bring, and how haunting nightmares could be. I miss the time when it was simple, or simpler, when parents didn't get old, and the ones that died didn't live in our house. I miss the days when someone else's life wasn't hanging on my decisions, when the word family was something I didn't know enough about to want, when I didn't know what loneliness would be like as an adult. What I'd give to be that pregnant fourteen year old again, not in control of my situation enough to regret it, and not pessimistic enough to want to change what I believed was the inevitable outcome. I believed in myself enough that I would have done anything to give birth to her, and I couldn't imagine ever wanting a man's input in raising her.

I love Bright Eyes, but love is the hardest thing to do. I don't think I'll ever get it right and, truthfully, some days I just don't want to. I'm not the kind of person who should have someone else's life hanging on their choices. I'm too fickle, too emotional to be trusted with the raising of a child or the holding together of a family. I hate being alone, but who in their right mind would want to try to be the one by my side? That's just so much effort, so much trouble, for something so incredibly unstable. I wouldn't want to see my child deal with that.