She opens her eyes, slowly. I put on a smile.
“Good morning. What do you want to eat this morning?”
She looks away. “Nothing.”
“You have to eat something. For the baby.”
I'm not exactly jumping over the moon for the child, but...it's my child.
She wouldn't lie about that. About being pregnant, or about it being mine.
It's my child. And I don't hate it. I don't exactly love it either. I pity it, more than anything if I'm completely.
Because there's no way it's not gonna be f****d up. And that's was prospect. I wonder if other future parents feel that way?
They just look at their cesspool of genes and think: f**k. We just did that little human dirty.
I dunno. Maybe it's just me. It was inconsiderate of me to spawn a child in the first place. Poor thing.
Either way, it's here so it
