12/04/02
Dear Matt,
I’ve thought
about sitting down and writing you a letter so many times. I
always gave up. Now that I’m actually doing it, I can’t seem to
remember any of my reasons for not.
I don’t know
what’s wrong with me. I don’t know why I cried the first time I
read your e-mail or why I cried when I replied to it a little while
ago. I don’t know why you were kind to me. I wasn’t
expecting kindness. My life makes so little sense now.
I was expecting
blame. And anger. Especially from my parents. But
I’ve gotten nothing but support which throws me off more than blame or
anger would. People care, and they don’t know that they shouldn’t
because I don’t.
I don’t even
know if that’s really true. If I could have anything I want right
now it would be you here with me so we can deal with baby
together. Not just because you’re its father, but because . . .
. God, hormones. I don’t even like you, don’t even care
about you.
I don’t know
even if that’s really true.
In your e-mail
you said you wished I'd told you sooner. I'm afraid you're going
to ask me why I did when I did. Why I couldn't keep my secret any
longer. I don't even remember if Lyla had asked me -- "Why now, all of
a sudden?" Not like I would've answered her anyway. Not like I would've
told her that I had felt it move for the first time. Not that it would
have mattered to her that from the moment she decided to cross the room
toward me was the same moment I understood that I am the carrier of a
living being -- and not just someone with a secret inside of her,
taking control of her body, and her mind, and her future.
I want my baby
to be like Beene. I want it to believe in unicorns and fairies
and all that crap. And to read it The Polar Express at Christmas,
and I want it to hear the sound of that stupid bell, even if I
can't. I want this baby to be more than I am.
Maybe it's a
good thing Beene's not around. Maybe the best thing she ever did
was leave. I'm forced to make my own decisions. Without advice
from someone who [long, indecipherable cross-out here]. But how
do I think I'm going to get anywhere without that in my life? This baby
might just have to be the believer. I might just have to believe in
this baby.
No. I can't put
expectations on a baby. I can't expect anything at all. I see
what people do to their children. Wanting the best for them, and
getting the worst. I see when girls think that just by getting pregnant
it's going to make their life all better. They'll think it gives them a
hold on their man, they'll think it guarantees them more. But if no one
loved them without a baby, no one is going to love them with one.
I won't have
expectations for this baby. I won't have any of
it. This doesn't make sense.
Tell one or two
people something, and the next day every fucking person on the face of
the planet knows more about it than you do. We never graduate
high school, do we?
"Hey, there's
that cute pregnant girl."
Fuck you,
Amarice.
12/15/02
"Well, I'm still a father, and I
understand that that entails certain responsibilities."
I admit, with
no particular feeling in one direction or the other, that this is
something that has barely crossed my mind. I've only been
thinking about myself, pitying my poor self, so much that I can't even
comprehend . .. whatever.
I should keep
in mind your part in this a little more -- with respect, not anger or
blame or whatever else has been running through my mind these past few
weeks. You have expectations. I don't know what they are. You're
excited. I don't know why. You're a father. And I don't even know who
you really are.
What's the
point? Keeping this diary? And I'm so sure Lyla reads this, the nosy
bitch. Good thing I keep all the good thoughts inside my head anyway. I
feel like a crazy person. Don't only crazy people write diaries? And,
is atually writing about your diary in your diary a little crazy
anyway? I'm embarassing myself as I continue to write this pointless
drivel. Crazy people, and sixth graders -- that's who diaries are for.
And pregnant
women who want something to show their child.
Hey, Little One.
I don't know
what to call you -- I don't want to be responsible for coming up with a
name you hate. I don't even know if you're a boy or a girl. I don't
remember asking your dad if he wanted to know or not. It never crossed
my mind to ask. I guess if he wanted to know he would've said so.
I'm sorry this
is so stupid.
I had a cup of
coffee today, for the first time since I found out I was pregnant with
you. And your response was to kick the crap out of me for a few hours.
Thanks, kid. No caffeiene for you, not ever.
No pressing
news to tell you about today.
I would have
expected something like this from Mari. I guess this just goes to show
you can't assume things about certain people, just becasue they seem
happy or whatever. Maybe Madison found out she can't have children, or
something, and that's why she hangs around so much, and asks me so many
questions. I just hope to God she's not in love with me.
I wanted to
write something about Beene, or maybe it was Matt. I can't
remember. I'm so tired these days. I don't know why it I think
it's worthwhile to write anything at all. Maybe I don't, and I do
it anyway. Maybe the only person I'm fooling is myself.
01/17/03
What happened
to the art of writing the dates in? Like it matters what day it
is anyway. It's all the same to me. I'm not going to be any different
tomorrow or the next day than I was yesterday or the day before. Maybe
someone will want to know. I can't imagine why.
Maybe I should
get one of those baby books, like a real mother.
I'm a real
mother. Me?
Beene, if you
were here, here all along, you could've helped me make sense out of all
this madness. I wanted to have sex, just to see, for the
experience. No other reason than that. Maybe to feel like a
woman, but I didn't. And I don't know. Isn't pregnancy supposed to make
you feel womanly? Not that I ever really believed that. Not that I ever
really believed anything. I feel so young. Young and stupid and not
ready for anything.
Actions have
consequences. That's what I was getting to. So is this
punishment? I may be young and stupid, but even I know that's absurd.
It's just that, Beene, I don't know what it is.
I wish I could
really talk to you and not just pretend I am. And see your name
pop up on that annoying mailing list every so often. I'd e-mail
you, or something, I would have by now. But I don't know if we're still
talking.
I'd like to
think you would've been the one to make the first move. You're
the one who left, after all.
Matt, you
didn't even ask me how I was. I've had a really rough day.
Giving birth and all. I should've said that. God damn it, I
should have said that.
She's going to
be a daddy's girl for sure. I can totally tell. They're
going to be best friends and leave me out of it.
Some people
change every day. I had a baby and I don't feel any different at
all. Maybe she didn't ruin my life after all. Maybe I did
that.
4/20/03
Last night I
dreamed Matt died.
5/21/03
He never gets
bored of that baby. I wonder if I'll be around when he does.
06/09/03
He keeps
telling her that she's so beautiful. Over and over again.
It's probably never going to stop. Has he ever told me I'm
beautiful?
Fuck it.
What do I care if a guy who can't even comb his hair thinks I'm
beautiful or not?
I want him out.
I care because
he's the father of my baby. I care because . . . Because, damn
it, I've come to care about him. I love him. I love
Matt. I love Matt Thew.
I want to be
Mrs. Matt Thew. I want to be married to him and I've had the
thought for so long that I know now that it's not hormones. I
want to be his wife. I want to drive a minivan and take Madonna
to school in the mornings and hold Matt's hand when we watch her
recitals. I want a future, and I want Matt and Madonna to be in
it. Because I love them both more than I imagined I could.
And maybe I'd
feel better about the way I feel if Matt would share a little of that
affection that he gives to Madonna with me every so often.
Whenever something does happen, it's only because I want it to.
Maybe he just feels obligation towards me. Maybe that's all this
is. I remember him telling me he liked me. But does he
really like me?
I also remember
when he said he always thought he'd be in a committed relationship when
he had a child. This isn't what he wanted, and I'm so scared he's
still looking for it. What am I going to do when the new woman
and the new baby comes along?
I could never
do it. I could never separate the two of them. The only
relationship here is theirs. As much as I'd like us to be, we're
not a family. I'm the one who doesn't
belong.
I can't live like this.
06/16/03
I spent the
better part of an hour puking. And feeling equal amounts of relief and
regret. Regret because that wasn't morning sickness. Maybe another baby
would make this leaving easier. Relief because I know there isn't a
baby I want more than Madonna.
I don't know
what I'm going to do with myself now. Maybe this is the end of me.
I didn’t
exactly think this through.
7/15/03
I keep thinking
about the night I made him cry. Did he give me that power, or did
I take it?
Isn’t this
weird, Matt?
I mean, isn’t
it?
Me and Beene
swore we’d never let a guy between us. We promised that we’d
never be torn apart because of a guy.
But did we
really? Or did I imagine it? And if I didn’t – did we
really believe it?
What does it
matter now anyway? Chris tore us apart – and neither of us got
him anyway. And neither of us ...
I have a life
with Matt now. A life we made for our daughter. And I don’t
eve know what he is to me – is he my boyfriend? Are we
lovers? I almost want to marry him just so I could have an answer.
He is simply
Matt. The father of my child. And I am still me. Just
plain, boring Myra Ellen. I don’t know if I ever wanted to be
anything different.
Beene.
Chris. I knew who they were – Best Friend. Boyfriend.
The titles I gave them were so easy. But the relationships were
so, so complicated.
I keep trying
to twist Matt into something for me, and it really is so simple.
Simpler than its ever been. No complications. Just the ones
I keep making up.
2/11/04
It feels like a
thousand years since you were born, Madonna, instead of only one.
6/03/04
I just found
out that Matt refers to me as his “significant other.” Now I know.
I’m significant
to someone.
Weird.
But it’s just a
thing to call someone.
It doesn’t mean
anything. It’s not like it really does. At all.
6/7/04
Matt thinks I
look like Ariel. I don’t know what to think about it – there are
too many half thoughts running around my brain to form a whole
thought. I guess my first instinct was to say that I wasn’t that
beautiful. And then my second thought was that he probably only
thinks that because of my red hair. And then my third thought was
that maybe he thinks I’m that beautiful.
My fourth, and
final thought was that they were all stupid thoughts to begin with.
Damn him.
6/24/04
I feel like I’m
stuck in a rut.
No – I AM stuck
in a rut.
6/27/04
It’s that I
want to go back home. Home is the Singing Company. I can’t
just sit around here and play the little housewife. I don’t want
to marry him anymore – maybe I even lied when I said I love him.
I don’t know
why I’m still hanging around. Madonna, I guess. That’s the
only reason.
I’ve been
having this crazy idea lately. Really fucking crazy. I’ve
been thinking of getting pregnant, and then going back. That way
he could have a baby and I could have a baby. But dammit, I don’t
want to give her up. I love HER not some other
baby. Why should he get to have her anyway? It’s not
fair. We both can’t have her, and I shouldn’t have to say against
my will just out of compromise. I’m getting sick. Really,
really sick.
I do miss being
pregnant sometimes, though. But maybe because there was no choice
– she had to be with me.
Why can’t Matt
be a deadbeat dad? Why can’t he run out on me and leave us
alone? Why do I have to look like the deadbeat here?
6/30/04
I knew it was
stupid when I did it – but that didn’t stop me. It never does,
does it?
I’m just
looking for an excuse to get out. Any excuse.
Later: It’s Beene’s birthday
today. I wish I could just put her behind me and stop remembering
things like that. But I can’t. Wonder what that means.
07/02/04
I’m still
pro-choice. They say giving birth is supposed to change that, but
it didn’t for me. Sometimes I wonder what life would be like now
if I had gone through with it. I don’t think it would’ve been
wrong. There’d be no way to know what I’d be missing
either. I don’t think I was in a situation where there was any
right answer. I don’t think I was in a situation where I’d have
no regrets, whatever the outcome.
Dear Matt,
Sometimes I
want to tell you secrets about me, but how can I do that when we hardly
even know each other in the first place? You can’t tell when I’m
in a good mood or in a bad mood, because you probably think they’re
both the same.
I don’t know
why I even want to tell you these things. Because then
what? Really, what would you do?
Maybe they
would make you hate me. Then I’d be free to go.
Bye Matt.
08/08/04
I can’t stand
it anymore. This isn’t the right place for me, and I don’t know
why I stay. Madonna is barely a reason anymore. I gave up
my life to be a mom too early, and I want it back again.
Please. Who am I begging. Myself?
08/10/04
It was a little
easier than I thought it would be. I almost broke down crying a
few times – I almost played games with him. But I have no desire
to play games anymore. My only desire is to get away.
08/13/04
Why does he
“like me” anyway?
I hate that
stuff.
8/15/04
Tomorrow is the
big day.
I haven’t even
thought about what I would do if Andrea doesn’t hire me back.
That thought hadn’t even occurred to me until right now. I know
it could happen.
I really don’t
want to go crawling back to Matt. That would suck so much.
I wonder if I
could go back home – to mom and dad’s – even if I want to.
Fuck. I remember when I told them I was pregnant, mom said,
“Well, we can’t kick you out – you’re already out.”
Was she trying
to make a joke? Would she have really kicked me out? I
don’t know the answers to these questions about my own parents.
I don’t want to
go crawling back to them either.
Maybe I could
look up Beene. That would be funny as hell.
I’m in such a
weird mood tonight.
8/17/04
I feel like the
haze is finally lifting. I wonder how long it’ll last this
time. I get these temporary highs of happiness, and then I fall
into an abyss. Over and over again this happens. It doesn’t
matter what it is – it just happens.
Maybe I should
seriously think about medicating myself.
My paranoia
about not being accepted back dissolved when Andrea said she’d look at
my absence as an extended maternity leave. I’m grateful for
that. She said she’s going to be pushing me harder though.
I don’t know if I can handle that.
Ari got married
this past Sunday. I got into town just in time and Lyla told me
about it and I was able to go. It’s so weird – I dated him.
I wanted something from him, but I don’t remember what it was.
I kept thinking
what it would be like if it were me and Matt up there getting
married. What a coincidence it was that I should leave the one
man I’ve seriously thought about marriage with, to come here and attend
a wedding first thing.
Do I believe in
coincidence?
Part of the
reason I wanted to leave was because I want some serious alone time,
away from him, to contemplate the possibility of whether or not I really want to marry
him. Because this could possibly be my last alone time. I
don’t intend on leaving Madonna forever. I still don’t know how I
really feel about Matt. My thoughts change every single time I
think
I’ve never been
able to come up with a single thing that might ever make me happy.
8/19/04
I had
nightmares last night. Can’t remember a thing about them
anymore. I wonder if they were trying tell me that this is really
all wrong.
But it’s always
all wrong.
later
I think there’s
two different kinds of missing people. But fuck if I’m going to
explain it.
I’m going home
this weekend to see Matt and Madonna. Did you hear that? I
called it home.
Maybe I have
more than one “home.”
8/21/04
I don’t know
what the fuck I’m getting all fucking pouty for.
We all knew it
was going to happen.
9/3/04
I don’t know
what to do now, but I have to live my life too, you know? I can’t
spend my life watching Matt mope around the house and not be able to
come up with a single thing to do to help him.
It won’t be
like this forever, though. I do know that, don’t I?
It won’t be
like what?