Why does heading towards life have to feel like heading towards destruction.

I am not doing a very good job with things at the moment.  I am sitting literally unable to move.  Can't I just go home please.  Just for the next couple weeks.  Until all this is over. Until breathing isn't so hard.

If you know why a thing is happening,  it doesn't make the thing go away,  or make it any easier. How do you pretend to be human,  to be alive,  when everything you were died so long ago.

There's a story in here somewhere.  About the virgin mother. Making me woman,  giving me life.  But really she was a jealous God.  She wanted someone to be made in her image.  She didn't think things through.  Never considered what it is to trap someone inside a human body who was never supposed to be born. She was being vain and ignorant.