But, there has to be some reason.
I'm really struggling with this whole randomness thing. No plan. No justice. No fair.
It's the only thing that makes any sense -- or at least... Well, it's the only thing that makes sense in relation to my sense of justice. Of how things *should* be. And it makes me really, really angry.
Like that first six months or so after we lost the boys. Like there was a black cloud over me. Everyone I touched seemed to get hurt.
C hates when I start talking about the "embryo motel" I've got for a uterus.
How can any of this be explained?
Fucking pisses me off. Tired of it.