Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Fourth Post

Why do I even bother looking at this? Who cares what the damn doctor thinks, it's not helping. There is nothing that can possibly help. The bastard that killed my babies is dead and that doesn't help. The woman who led him to them stays away from me and that doesn't help. Their waste of a father doesn't bother me anymore and that doesn't help.

I'm running out of reasons to keep going. Sometimes all I can do is sit and stare at those pictures they drew. They called him the man. It's odd. He doesn't look like the man who killed them. The man in the pictures was bald.

I asked them once why the man in their pictures didn't have a face. They said cause he doesn't have one Mommy. And they laughed like they were telling me a joke. But then when I asked why he had arms like a spider's legs they didn't laugh. They just cried and curled up in my lap.

Is it my fault for not taking the pictures more seriously?

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Third Post

Sometimes I feel like if I just sleep more, I'll wake up. Sounds fucked up right? But I've had so many dreams where they were alive, that this was all just the most horrible nightmare my brain had ever cooked up. After all, every mother is terrified of something happening to her children, right?

I don't want this life. I want the dreams, where my babies are still alive, no one has ever hurt them. Because this can't be real, they can't be gone. They are so beautiful, so perfect, so vibrant how can they not be alive?  Dead? Not my babies! Not my little loves, my brats, my rugrats, my angels, minemineminemmine

They never let me see the bodies. Said it was too horrible for me to see. Would it have helped? Can anything help?

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Second Post

It's Father's Day. Jamie was never interested in Father's Day. He paid child support because the courts made him do it, but he had no interest in his own kids. When he showed up at the funeral, I thought that maybe losing them had made him realize what he had lost. Instead he told me that he was going to file with the court to not have to send a check anymore since they were dead.

I never cared about his god damn money. The only reason I took him to court to begin with was because  I couldn't afford to to take care of both of them on a cashier's paycheck. He thought that when he was done with me, he could be done with the kids too. And now he gets his wish.

They pulled me off of him before I could really hurt him. Only a few scratches on his face when I was trying to go for his eyes. 

Friday, June 17, 2011

First Post

I'm not quite sure what I'm doing here. My doctor wants me to keep a diary. She says that she doesn't have to see but that I need "an outlet".  I've never been fond of the idea of sitting down and writing in a book, so I thought I would try this since I can type faster then I can write. It fulfills what she asked me to do and doesn't require me spending more then 10 minutes at a time doing it. And its not as if anyone is going to read this. So I can just say whatever I want and no one will ever know the difference. That's if I can think of anything to say.

Oh God I miss them. So very much.