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___________________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
This apartment is so empty it's depressing. Every room echoes with the kind of silence that makes you question your sanity. I've rearranged the same three things a million times just to keep from losing it. The boredom is crawling under my skin. I'm two seconds away from flipping through the air, doing backflips and front aerials.
I need a distraction. Something, anything. Maybe some Jhene will help me chill out for a minute. I grab my phone and my speaker, ready to drown in the vibe. As I'm setting up, my phone buzzes with a text.
Babygirl🎀😍 Hey, you good?
I switch my phone to Do Not Disturb. Not today. I need some space, not more questions. The speaker crackles to life, and I let the music take over, filling up the emptiness in this bare-ass apartment. It's just me, a couple of new chairs at the island, and a mattress on the floor. My bed and the rest of my furniture are still in transit, but for now, it's just me holding it down.
I should be happy, right? I'm independent, living on my own. But the weight of this baby situation is making it hard to breathe. Tyson's mess is looming over me, threatening to crash into my life. If that baby shows up, I swear I'm gonna lose it.
What kind of bullshit is this? A baby I didn't ask for, didn't plan for, and sure as hell don't want. Kayla's crazy, the babydad a whole other level of dumbass, and now I'm supposed to clean up their mess? Hell no. That baby might have my DNA, but I didn't sign up for this.
I shake my head, trying to push the thoughts away. The music's helping a little.
Rich nigga, eight-figure, that's my type That's my type, nigga, that's my type...
I sing along, letting the beat thump through the room. Jhene Aiko's verse comes on, and I get into it.
I like a BBC in some BBC That's the type that wanna make a bitch DTD
The lyrics roll off my tongue, but they can't distract me for long. The anxiety about the baby creeps back in. What am I supposed to do if they actually drop that baby off? I'm not ready for that. I've been doing everything I can to build my own life, to escape the bullshit. And now this?
My stomach knots up thinking about it. I hate kids. Not in the "Oh, they're annoying" way but in the "I don't want one anywhere near me" way. With the acception of Miyella
I didn't even like babysitting my little cousins, and now they expect me to take care of a whole human being? It's not happening. No way. This baby situation is scarier than any pregnancy scare I've ever had. I swear, if that baby shows up, I'm cutting off everyone who thought this was a good idea—starting with my grandma and Tyson.
