enough.

like the first day of highschool i find myself trying way too hard
to make people happy, especially you
but rarely me
i toss and turn as your son kicks me in the stomache
and i am dreaming of prom dresses and brothers
and long hair in ponytails where i am running for my life
(i’m always running for my life)
and all anyone knows how to say is
calm down
before you end up in the hospital,
and you are hurting your baby
you need to breathe and relax,
but no one takes in to consideration that if it were that easy
i’d already be doing it.
three-fourths of the way there
though im not sure where,
i’ve been spending the pass months telling myself
if i get through the pregnancy it will
all be
        down hill
              from there.
and what, did i never realize that at the end of all of this
i would be someones mama,
responsible for a life,
that i would need to grow up
and figure out what is best for someone else
when i still dont even know whats best for me.
he deserves more than this, you know.

he deserves stable and sane and beauty
but god, every inch is ugly and unreliable
and i am making plans,
god, i’m trying and what i am most afraid of
is that
i will never
be
enough.