"Adam, don't leave me. Adam, please, promise, to god you won't leave me," she said with tear stained eyes.

How did I get myself into this mess? What part of my bran decided to fault out today? The logical thing to do is cover my mouth with food and pretend to be stoic. I've been nibbling down the same giant blueberry muffin for about an hour now, and there are no real signs of consumption.

I watched her pace back and forth. Bleeding mascara and hair stiff as straw. Thin like a bean pole, and eyes set far apart like a hammer head shark. This was my new wife? I wanted the plastic covering the retro couch to speak for me. To tell her that everything will be fine, and we'll have this child together. I don't want to hear doubt, or the plotting of my demise.

She pulled at the light bits of hair, and held her eyes tightly shut until she finally burst again. Another stream of tears, dramatic cries, and a plop onto the love seat across from me. All I can muster is a sigh. I'd comfort her but the muffin would make hand motions awkward. All she needs is crumbs in her hair.

I've managed to go without a word for quite awhile now. As I watch the shaking body blubber into vinyl, I reflect. I got her pregnant, is the simplest way to put it. The thoughts make me sick to the stomach. I wish the story was simpler than that.

The main conflict is, I'm gay. Or, I was, apparently. Now I'm a father? Swell. Choices are really limited. I want to go back, I really do. Life was simpler. I was naive and stupid. I still am stupid, but now I realize there are consequences to every action. Yes sir, EVERY action. And to decipher this mess, I start ladies and gentle man at square one.

My name is Adam. I'm 19 years old. And this is my story.