We are taking the van and ourselves to the South Coast, and I am not in the mood.
Anxiety attack on the motorway.
“I don’t want to be on that pebble beach tonight, and I don’t want to be with you! I am pissed off with you for getting me pregnant”
No more family life fantasy.
“This isn’t what I want, I am not ready for any of this. We are not compatible. How I am supposed to even consider looking after a baby when I can barely look after myself? I want to finish the van and do more travelling. I want freedom. No, I don’t want to look at the fucking star spread sky above us.”
“How can you remain so calm while I’m here shouting at you? Say something! Get upset! Stop being so kind!”
“I want it all to be over. I don’t want this baby”
Tonight, I make a decision, one that I’ll never forget.
A is for Abortion.
Bean is 8mm.