Better than hyperventilating

Suddenly I'm prone to filtering, no editing, no, where are my words, as regarding my thoughts. I'd consider that a sign in itself not to write, ordinarily, but I'll just push on through. I want to return to my judgmental self where I get to stand on my high horse and decide even more now that people haven't got a clue about what's important. They've been spared.

I want to focus on the synchronicities, how yesterday's sermon had to be about the troubles we face in life, a divine insight handed to our pastor, which he then shared. How now is the time to give voices to everyone, especially the handicapped who aren't all broken, just partly.

I feel like I'm suddenly one of the three fates, an otherwise healthy baby growing wholly inside me, except for one part. The essential part, of course, that makes all exclamation points possible in the first place...the center of love.

The cruel trick is that I have to carry this lifeform forward, kicking, alive. But once it enters earth, no longer dependent on my oxygen, can I call it failure to thrive? Were it less complex, of course I would. But instead, I get to count the days until its arrival, trying to celebrate life until then.