why would anyone read this blog it's just insanely pathetic

When did I begin to feel like a prisoner in my own life?

I have what feel to me like flashbacks of another life, before this one. A life where I had friends, a job, money, and I looked great in my underwear. I drank martinis at One Duke and picked up a bouquet of flowers on the way home, just because. I smoked on patios and did some drugs when they were offered. I had a zillion boyfriends and I made art. I listened to music loudly while I devoured poetry on my bed, all night long. I drank wine in the tub and I painted walls lime green.

Now I wake up still tired, and try to fall back asleep. Then I have to get up because the sound of people walking around upstairs is too distracting. I drink 2 cups of coffee and have a shower. Then I sit on the couch. There is never anything on. I get on the computer and I have no one to talk to; there are no new messages on my facebook. I try to read a book, but most of them aren't interesting so I read one I've read before, years ago. I eat too much junk food and my one size fits all bath robe is starting not to fit around my ever-expanding waist. I wonder how much weight I will have to lose after this baby is born.

I know it sounds absolutely awful to even think this way, but I just hope I don't resent this baby. I hope I don't feel like he ruined my life. I hope he doesn't ruin my life. I hope I don't end up a single mom. I hope I don't start wearing mom jeans. I hope I still have the will to put on make up when I get out of the shower, and I hope I don't start getting into floral patterns and "the mom show". I hope Mike loves him and we get married and we are a family. I do not want to lose everything that ever mattered to me in exchange for a baby that I didn't exactly ask for. We're coming so close to the end and I am just terrified of what kind of mother I am going to be. What kind of mother has these thoughts? Aren't I supposed to be excited and happy? Sometimes I am. It's just when I sit in this basement and think about it long enough that I start to wonder if I'm capable of doing a good job at this...

In a parallel universe I am writing the antithesis to this blog entry in a cafe, drinking a cup of coffee spiked with several different liquors and waiting for a friend to arrive and spend the afternoon with me. Maybe I'm writing about the trip I am planning to Barcelona. Maybe I am writing about how happy I am that I am going to have a Masters degree soon. Maybe I am writing about how sorry I feel for this person I know, who has depression and can't get the right medication...

Or maybe this is it. This is me and this is who I've been working up to becoming every second of my life so far. Maybe there is nothing left to dream for and no reason to put on make up in the morning because I'm just going to sit on a couch in a basement all day, every day anyway.