Alright, so this is something I'm just having fun with while I try to fix up my other stories. Basically, everyone has a deep dark secret, and the bohemians are confessing theirs just for you
Disclaimer: Yeah, I own it... please. You really think I'm brilliant enough to come up with something this... this... brilliant!
Secrets? Well, I don't have many, I like to keep things out in the open. Although there is one, I guess.
In high school, I got pregnant. And I gave the baby up for adoption.
See, I've actually only recently come to terms with my sexuality, despite what everyone thinks. They seem to imagine that I was born a lesbian or something, when really that couldn't be further from the truth. I dated only guys until about two years ago.
Anyway, so in eleventh grade, I went to this party. No big deal, right. Anyway, so I met this guy. He was really smart, and sweet, and handsome, you know, and we talked for a long time. But the problem was, I didn't feel attracted to him in the least! That really worried me, and I was really trying to force myself to, you know, find him attractive.
That didn't work too well, so as a last restort, I slept with him that night. I was a virgin up until then, and looking back I wish I had waited. I was pretty wasted, and I don't even remember his name or really what he looked like. We only did it that one time, and it was sort of akward because he was a virgin too, so neither of us really knew what we were doing. Afterward, I never saw him again, at least I don't think I did. So I thought that that was the end of it.
Then I started to have the symptoms. At first, I tried to write it off as stress or something, but about a month in I finally had to accept the fact that I was pregnant.
I told my parents, who flipped out. They're really the ones who pushed for adoption. I was sort of leaning towards keeping it, but I couldn't. Mom and Dad would never let me. Call me what you will, but I wasn't willing to risk my parents wrath for anything. So I agreed to put it up for adoption once it was born.
On June 4 I had my baby. My parents had already set up all the legal arrangements and had a family all picked out, so I barely got any time to be with him at all. But he was beautiful and healthy, which the docters said was a miracle since I was so young.
And then he was gone. I think what bothers me the most is that I never even got to name him. I didn't let myself pick out names while I was pregnant, since I'd be giving him up immediatly, but I think I would have liked to name him after my grandfather, Christian Harvey.
He'd be almost eleven now, I think. It makes me sad, too, to think that he'll have grown up without me there to watch. It's like, I have no say in who he'll someday become. I knew that that would be the case when I agreed to give him up, but that's never stopped it from hurting.