Warning: You may not want to continue reading if hearing about "female troubles" troubles you. Or trebles, basses, or altos you. Whatever way, you're fairly forewarned, and I won't be offended if you leave the blog.

For the past few months--okay, year-ish--every time I get my period I feel bitter. My body's obviously well enough to create a happy lining for a baby, but not enough to reap the benefits of going through that cycle of baby preparation to foster a fetus (or, y'know, have a zygote created in the first place.) I know it's illogical to be frustrated with something like procreation, that is so amazing when it works that it's nothing short of miraculous, but I have a hard time not wanting my body to go all-or-nothing. If I can't get pregnant, stop the charade of the periods, please. Let me just be a nothing instead of a half-working female. I just want one way or the other, not this limboland.

Illogical, but that's how I feel.

So, now periods are almost a time of mourning, each and every month. Maybe I need to find a new perspective on all of this, and I'll probably try soon, but right now? I just want to be sad.