double vision

it wasn't a blue-line kind of test. it was a one or two line kind of test. and there were two. i could have sworn i was hallucinating. that was not what i'd revved myself up for, not what i'd expected. no more purgatorial pondering. but, lord, i'm knocked up again and numbers are not yet clear.
i am having flashbacks. this is motivating memories that i wasn't aware i had. like cramps with him in his geo metro that i called his marshmallow car, the one that smelled perpetually of taco grease and too much air freshener masking chronic chronic. like buckling over from the pain, thinking i was about to bleed something crazy, demanding he find me midol and fast only to, two weeks later, not bleed and wonder what the hell was going on.
the same purple-handled white plastic urine stick. the same result. and suddenly i wasn't in her bathroom, comforted by the fact that they do love and care about me. suddenly i was alone. in the musty mall bathroom, inhaling stale air as i counted down the three minutes it took for my piss to creep across the panels, display the ominous result. suddenly, i was lurching in the stained toilet, banging against the door of the stall, unable to dam the flood down my face, racing back to the music store to find him and tell him the unwanted news. suddenly, i needed something to hold onto, because i needed him not to be slamming his face into his steering wheel and screaming obscenities in my head.
this will be a journey. i knew that, but didn't expect this. i didn't expect to go all ptsd when it started to be real. i didn't expect everything inside me to blur and race and threaten me so much.
what will he do? this is such a bizarre test of our strength. he seemed excited, but i can't speculate about its longevity. i can only hope it lasts. which is a somewhat ridiculous hope. this could potentially prove incredibly informative. an unexpected, unconventional window into later.
she: medication? her teacher seems to think it necessary. she says the behaviors are inhibiting and that it's a disservice for me to remain inert, convinced that the problems stem solely from her bombastic and loveable personality, convinced medication will drastically and undesirably alter the development of her beautiful brain. not performing to potential, she said, look, she has learned almost nothing since the year started. it's not that she can't. it's that she's too distracted.
whattodowhattodowhattodo...................?
i could call him and talk, but he only depresses me, aggravates me until i wish i'd been born under a different star, different time and place, different life.
i'd so much rather sleep, dream, set my vision straight, dispense of inner shock and awe.