I grew up to be childless.
I wish someone loved me/for me. Not as a thing to change and not as//a thing who has good genes and not as a thing/whose hobbies would make her a great mother. I don’t want my vagina to be some/path/my uterus some/incubator for the future. Could someone love me for just me?

I worry/it is not possible. That when people see me they see/possibilities, not facts/opportunities, not a person in bloom/only the future I could provide, that I’m too stubborn to provide — that my desires/are just an inconvenience/and I’m not deserving of this body/this vessel/at all. My body/im using it/all wrong.

why don’t you do this and that/they say, even though i’m happy. but it’s a shame. it’s a shame for me to be happy/when i could be more/when i could be/not me.