By Definition

I've always grown up knowing exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to be the girl who grew up a good girl and got a degree in business. I wanted to meet a good business man and get married to him at the church. I wanted to start a business and raise our children together. I wanted to watch them finish high school and get married. I wanted to grow old with my husband and sit on our porch and drink a cup of coffee while he read the newspaper and I read my current romance novel. I wanted to let my hair get grey and throw it in a bun on the top of my head. I wanted to let my grandchildren come over and bake cookies with them. I wanted to die of old age with my husband. I wanted the typical, normal life.

Want /wänt/ Verb: Have a desire to possess or do (something); wish for.

But apparently that life doesn't exist- not for me at least. The universe didn't want me to have it. Apparently I was destined for something better, although I'm not quite sure how you could describe my life as "better."

Better /ˈbetər/ Noun: More useful, suitable, or desirable.

My life was not "better." I had hoped that one day it would be but- well, that's a story for later. I guess you could say that my life had changed from the course it was supposed to take, at least in my mind.

My life started going downhill when I had found out that I was pregnant. My boyfriend at the time at I had done "it" only once, but apparently that was enough. My boyfriend was repulsed and he didn't want to take responsibility. He had told me that he was just too young and that he didn't have the money to support a child. I foolishly believed that he still wanted to be with me though. I had thought that he just needed a bit more time to process everything. Obviously I was wrong.

Wrong /rôNG/ Adjective: Not correct or true.

I spent 9 months just sitting around just waiting for him, and I completely neglected my duties as a future mother. By the time the 37th week came around, I still didn't know the gender of the baby, nor did I know how to feed it or how to change its diaper. I had no money saved to spend on toys or clothes or even food. And due to the fact that my parents disowned me, I was homeless.

I had no roof to cover my baby's head and there was no one there to help me. I was planning on dropping out of school once the baby was born. I had pretty much accepted that there were going to be problems for the two of us. I had no health insurance so when it was time to meet my child, I knew I couldn't go to the hospital due to the fact that I couldn't ever pay the bills for the room. I was completely broke.

Broke /brōk/ Adjective: Having completely run out of money.

When it came time for me to deliver my child, I had ended up getting help from a woman who used to be a doctor before she lost everything in Vegas. Gambling was her drug and she lost everything because of it. Just like I lost everything due to my baby. She wanted to help me because she could relate to me.

The delivery was painful. I had never experienced so much pain before in my life. The doctor let me give birth in her motel room that she had at the time. I ended up moving in with her after the birth, along with my newborn baby boy, who I named after his father in hopes that it would give the father a reason to come return.

Return /riˈtərn/ Verb: Come or go back to.

But again, I was wrong. He didn't come back. When I told him that it was a boy who was named after him, my ex-boyfriend told me that was a stupid thing to do. By naming the child after him, it connected the baby to him, something that he didn't want.

I couldn't say why I was acting so pathetic once I found out I was pregnant. Why I waited and hoped that my ex would come back to me and his child. I had no idea myself.

When my son was about six months old, I turned to alcohol to give me a release. I needed something to distract me from the pathetic life I was living with an ex-doctor and my son in a crappy one room apartment that we had started renting about five months before. I worked two jobs- I was a waitress at a small cafe in town and a barista at the local pub. My child didn't wear diapers -he wore old cloths- and he didn't have any real baby toys -he had old milk cartons and boxes that once held alcohol bottles. The three of us lived off of one bowl of cereal and milk a day. My life was crap.

Crap /krap/ Noun: Something that is of extremely poor quality.

About seven months after my son was born, I found myself using drugs. A couple months later I was a big dealer. We used the money I earned from my deals to catch up on our rent. I was never sober except for when I was at work, but even being sober at work soon became a rare event. I rarely spent time with my son. I just didn't have the time, or I wasn't sober enough to remember about him.

On May 22nd, I realized about half way through the day that it was my son's birthday. I walked over to his crib in the corner of the room and once I looked down I froze. I saw that he was pale and his ribs were easy to see. There was barely any fat on his bony little body. I bent down to pick him up and his skin was ice-cold. His eyes were wide open but he didn't move a muscle. His eyes showed fear and pain, something I had never seen so vividly in a child's eyes. I tried calling his name, hoping that maybe he just slept with his eyes open, but I got no response. I tried everything, but he wouldn't wake up. He was dead.

Dead /ded/ Adjective: No longer alive.

At that exact moment, the ex-doctor with whom I shared a room with walked into the apartment. I walked over to my dresser, still holding my son in my hands. I searched around in my drawers while tears started streaming down my face. When I found what I was looking for, I tucked it in my back pocket and I walked over to my roommate. As I looked at her, I realized how beautiful she was. My roommate was a wonderful woman who I had grown to love. But I'm just now realizing that it was not the type of love I always thought it was. It wasn't a friendly love, it was a lustful love. I was in love with her. A woman. I loved another woman.

Love /ləv/ Verb: Feel a deep romantic or sexual attachment to (someone).

She saw the tears running down my face and looked down to see my dead son in one hand and my other hand pulling out a gun from my back pocket. She looked back to my eyes and silently pleaded with me to spare her life. It didn't work. I pulled the trigger and she was dead. I killed the woman I loved. She would never know I loved her. I had murdered her.

Murder /ˈmərdər/ Noun: The unlawful premeditated killing of one human being by another.

Her eyes were still open, still pleading with me not to take her life, even though it was already taken. I looked down at my son, and saw a similar look on his face. Then I looked up, into the mirror across the room from me, at my own reflection. I saw the same look in my eyes that I saw in both of theirs. I took a few minutes to examine the look on my face when I heard a banging on the door. A man on the other side told me to open up and that he was with the police. At that moment I took a second to reflect on everything.

By definition...

...I was a wanted woman now.

...I could never make my life better.

...I had always been wrong about everything in my life.

...I had been broke for over a year.

...I could never return to the life I used to have.

...I lead a life that was full of crap.

...I had a son, but now he is dead.

...I was in love with a woman.

...I murdered the woman I love.

As these thoughts ran over and over through my head, the banging on the door of our -my- apartment got louder. I let the thoughts run through my head while I thought of what to do. It only took me a second to make my decision. I let out a single sentence, something that summed up my feelings towards life pretty well.

"Screw life."

Bang!