Nobody thought about me in the last five hours, or at least, if they thought about me, they didn't tell me.

I had a small pregnancy scare. I have been feeling really really tired, and really sick the last week. I had a short anxiety attack last night. This is all very reminiscient of a previous experience I had. So I bought a test to be sure.

Nada. At least, not now. Might still be too early to tell.

It's a good thing. But I do admit a small, unconscious part of me was disappointed, twisted as that may sound.

Here's me, alone on a Saturday night. I want to be with people, but there aren't any people I can think of that I want to be with.

My stomach hurts. I feel like I should eat, but I'm afraid to because I've been putting on weight like the impossible.

It smells like lemons in here, I think.

I hate night times now. I used to love them. I loved darkness, I loved the quiet sometimes, I loved the lack of garishness.

Now it's just a time for me to sit and think of all the things I've lost, or all the things that have lost me. Regrets set in, worries that I could have or should have done things differently, worries about tomorrow and how I'm going to feel. What am I going to do?

I guess this is what everyone does, but I'm always so much more emotional at night, and afraid, and unwilling to continue. This is the time I get in arguments, or deep discussions that end in tears. It's not a good time of day for me anymore.

Just sad.