The past three months have been a personal nightmare for me. It has been the creation of a new life, yet the destruction of another. All kept as quite as can be, simply because I can't communicate. It's things like these that destroy relationships, both with family and with your love. Unfortunately, against all my increasingly inept attempts, my father was the last to know again.
My fiance is pregnant. She is on her twelve week now, the end of a third of the way to a new beginning. A beginning that I do not welcome with open arms. This was an accident, yet that is an understatement. It was not a mutual choice to decide to try and raise the baby. Yet it has been made. It seems these things decide themselves lately. Although I have concerns about having the money to raise a baby or the time, it seems that responsibility or other matters have made these fears moot. My voice, drown by other people's feelings or will, has fallen short of saving myself from anything that once resembled my former life.
And, at the end of this, I stand. What I have been as a man, and what I will become, are now my concerns. This ever increasing fog over the path I once saw as a road to a future built with my own will, now clouding my ability to even imagine the possibility of doing what I once thought possible.
If I knew that everything was going to be ok, I wouldn't have these feelings. A child of my own is something I have wanted, but not like this. Perhaps this is how fate steers one through their life. Give me strength now to build two futures with what I once wondered was enough for one.
