I thought I had hit bottom many times before.

When my lover finally gave up on me. When my father abandoned my family. When my mum admitted she loved alcohol more than both her children and gave up on herself entirely.

Despite spending months in the fetal position shivering from crying so hard, turning to medication and giving up on my education and family, these events  weren’t as bad as life got.

Last week I turned twenty-one. After wasting a year of my life being patronized and transforming into an empty shell of a human, I finally found the strength to shut the man I loved out of my life. It took time but eventually I found comfort in a friend and decided it was time for a rebound. I was terrified, but I felt strong and in control for the first time in a long time.

Last week I turned twenty-one and discovered that I was pregnant. Having just started university, having no emotional attachment to my rebound and intending to travel later in the year, I knew I needed to terminate this child.

I’ve always hated kids. They’re annoying. But thanks to hormones I had never experienced love like I did for the evil, blueberry sized demon causing my stomach to cramp up each morning. I wanted to keep it,  something I’d never expected from myself.

Yesterday, the friend who blessed me with this ‘gift’ took me to the local abortion clinic, and six hours later it was done.

I rushed this decision, and I know deep down it was the right one. So why have I thought of nothing but ending my life since? I thought I had grown from the life of feeling sorry for myself but I honestly don’t know what I’m living for anymore.

I did this for you.