I Can't Survive

It turns out he had no idea what was going on with the bombs. So I pestered Emma until she sent Sam and I to go retrieve him from Antartica. This was just a couple of days ago. Warren was the one who got me to believe.

Warren and I are semi-friends now, I think. I don't know. We had a good talk... He called me a survivor. And, looking at my past, I understand why. I've survived all of hell. Everything that's been thrown at me, I've walked away from. Bloody, injured, forever damaged, but I survived. Right?

I think this might be where I finally give up. I don't want to risk the lives of my children, but I don't see my life ever perking up. Never again. I am stuck in a perpetual state of tragedy and anguish. Some mornings, I don't even want to get out of bed.

Let me explain. Yesterday, I was visiting Remy in the med-bay, happy as hell that he was alive. And then she walks in.

Rogue.

Sam makes the mistake of coming in shortly after. (During the brief moment she and Remy speak to each other, he makes no indication he's married, or even states who I am. And I am MUCH too angry to speak, for fear of calling her a two-bit whore.) Sam Guthrie asks her on a date...

To which MY HUSBAND, my husband, looks like he's ready to launch a full scale ARMY against him for this single act! Like she was... Some Helen of fucking Troy or something!

Yet his wife gets seduced by some... Fake-French thief, and he doesn't bat an eye? What the fuck? Do you just not care?

I have wanted to die in the past... Repeatedly. Contemplated suicide, but tricked myself into thinking it'll get better.

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It won't get better from here. It's only going to get worse. After the twins are born, I might just... I might really do it...