a new found love.

A card.
A kiss.
An endless wait.
I keep searching
for patience. . .

When it comes to me...

Funny - how perspectives change when it is my own pain. What would I prove by having a biological baby? - That I am capable of reproducing? What if I am not interested? After all - it upsets my career, it would stop me from dancing, it would mean at least two years of sleepless nights and tons of hard work, trying to bring up a child with a modicum of what I consider decency and moral uprightness and fun.

But, I know that I would completely enjoy the work that it entails. Why is it so hard to bring up another's child with all my love? Why is it so very hard to love another person? When will my heart overcome my mind? And I wait endlessly.

broken

Numerous plants. A wonderful house. A hundred thousand memories. Broken in a span of three days. My home no longer exists.