This is… I'm sorry.
Her nose.
Her lips.
Her eyes.
All there, but none of them hers.
All there, but in a tinier form.
She's three months old today. It's the first time I've held her. I couldn't look at her at first. I couldn't see how much she looked like her mother. It hurt too much.
Too much.
She cries. I don't know what to do with her. I'm not good with babies. Clare was good with babies. She cries more. I still don't know what to do with her.
It's her fault she's gone.
That's irrational. I know. I don't care.
I love her.
That's normal.
I hate her too.
That's not.
She sleeps. A lot. I sleep a lot too. It's all I feel like doing and its all she can do. Except cry and shit.
She's beautiful like her mother. Perfect.
I love her.
I hate her too.
She left me.
She took her from me.
I want her back. I want her back. I want her back.
They came today. Said I was unfit.
She's with Clare's parents now. Or mine.
I can't remember. I don't care.
I have nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
AN: I… /: Sorry.