I'm not sure why I continue to hold out hope that any month will be different than the one before. I'm tired. I'm tired of trying and failing. I'm tired of picking myself up. I'm tired of forcing myself to smile when I want to cry. I'm tired of pretending that I'm ok. I'm tired of feeling like I got the short end of the stick. I'm tired of hoping, praying, and begging. I'm tired of reading stories about mothers who mistreat their children and wondering why they got to have them and not me. I'm tired of being jealous of the good moms. I'm tired of the dissapointment. I'm just plain tired.

A part of me wants to just fall into a million small pieces on the floor. It's a lot easier than carrying this around with me. It's an emptiness. I've prayed for hope and strength. I've lashed out in anger. I've cried in sadness and despair. I just don't know what to do anymore. I play this game with myself every month. The one where I pretend that I am going to be ok if isn't meant to be this time.

I sigh and say maybe chocolate will help, new shoes, a good movie, a warm bath, or even a good cup of coffee. What will soothe me? I don't know any more. I just don't.