What Will

It was confirmed a decade ago. She has, recurrently, suffered from issues that are deadly. Today, 27, strangely feeling completely satisfied with little achievements, she realizes that life is a big ball of bologni and it is wasteful to address any of these issues. Therefore, she has guaranteed a long life for herself. In other words, she isn't planning to care, hence, she isn't planning to die. Nor by choice, or by so called accident.

The day she met him hasn't yet happened. Nonetheless, it will be an out of this world experience. He always dresses the same way. He smells like hardcore male deodorant and she likes it. She has stopped smelling like cigarettes because she instinctively quit days before meeting him. She now smells of toffee and caramel as a substitution to addiction. Sadly, she'll shortly be forced to quit on this other indulgence because he secretly dislikes it and has made it clear.

They both taste delicious. They like to think it's because of their healthy eating habits, but it has a lot to do with innate genes. Neither of their families has ever suffered from stinky breath. But heritage cycles change and, unfortunately, the baby will develop unpleasant traits in the now family.

Yesterday she would look into the mirror and see a girl with potential. Now, 27, she drew figurines around the mirror and the focus is no longer herself. As a mother the mirror will break because the damn toddler can't seem to keep steady. She will cut herself picking up the pieces and will hate her life for about 20 minutes. She will toss the trash away and will brightly choose to dispose of her negativity as well.

The toddler also tastes delicious. Bad breath and all, his ears are yummy and his tummy is silky smooth. A self made pillow. There will always be something to thank the husband for.

A decade forward she suffers from a deadly disease called love. It keeps her in bed often because her husband is one sexual creature. It also has to do with the postpartum depression, because a second child can really fuck up your hormones.

Luckily her bed is comfortable, and as she lies, either for sadness or lust, she is well aware that life is a big ball of bologni, and she might as well get up and make some dinner; preferably Italian.