If this were a movie and not my life, I imagine a lot of slow-motion montages interspersed with pensive close-ups of our tragic heroine as she reflects on her predicament. But it’s not, so let’s get down to it. He left me six months ago, pregnant and broke, because I was naive enough to trust a man that said things I desperately wanted to hear.
I telegraphed my neediness to the world. It was something to do with my posture and the way I spoke. It was a giveaway to someone who viewed women as targets to be taken advantage of. A lot of men would have acted the same way. I see that now, but it doesn’t let him off the hook, not by a long stretch.
Who can I rely on for help now that I really need it? My sister lives five states away and I only have a few friends. They aren’t what you’d call dependable or even helpful. They just like to smoke hash and zone out as much as possible.
I suppose it’s time to accept where I’m at with all this and fight like hell to make it better. I honestly don’t have a choice at this stage. So much for being famous.
© 2021 Jeff E. Brown. All rights reserved.
Writing and Photography by Jeff E. Brown 