Hello. I'm not using my actual name on this site, but my family calls me Anoushka, so I feel a little more honest, at least. I'm here because I don't know where else to turn. I can't call a counselor, I can't even admit what I've done out loud to myself. Every time I try, I burst into tears and become incoherent in a matter of seconds. Last January, I found out while at the hospital that I was pregnant. I'm eighteen, and was in my freshman year of college at the time. In short, I was unequipped to deal with that news. I'm going to be completely honest here, so no more pretending that it wasn't my fault. I had stopped taking my birth control every day over the months leading up to this. I had grown careless. I guess that I kind of thought that it was just something that couldn't possibly happen to me. Pregnancy happened to "trashy" girls, to girls who didn't get good grades, girls who everyone just knew had no future. Girls who didn't take care of themselves (for some reason, the fact that I had grown careless with my birth control didn't count to me as "not taking care of myself." I was an idiot.) My fiance at the time was as shocked as I was. It was one of the worst nights of my life. I wanted to die. My first reaction was that I couldn't handle this. I couldn't take this. It was too much for me to bear. Suicide seemed the easiest way out. If I hadn't been with my fiance, I would have taken my own life that night. But he didn't leave my side, perhaps because he could sense that that was what would happen. We had already talked about it, and knew that carrying the baby full term was not an option. I will never bring a child into this world who I am unable to care for. We scheduled an abortion for later the same week. It was a "medical abortion," which is somehow supposed to be "better" than a surgical abortion. I went into the room, answered some questions, got a shot from a doctor, then took the little packet of pills that they gave me to use later in the week and went home. It didn't quite hit me, what I had done, what I was doing. It didn't hit me, really, until the following Tuesday when the pills started to take effect. It was the worst pain I have ever felt. Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally. I felt my child run out of me. I sat in the bathroom and cried for almost an hour. I killed my child and disposed of him or her as easily as you dispose of a dead goldfish. I will never forget that feeling. I can't. I close my eyes at night and can't think of anything else. It's almost July now. All I can think is that right now, i would be almost into my eighth month. It's not that I regret getting an abortion. I felt that I had no other choice. I still feel that it was the best choice for me. But it hurts more than I ever imagined it could. I don't know what to do anymore. I broke up with my fiance because I couldn't look at him without thinking of it. I pushed away friends and family. I hate myself. I feel that I have been forever changed, that things can never go back to the way they were before I did this. My best friend is very pro-life. I can't even admit to someone who is almost an extension of myself what I have done. I can't say it out loud. I can't sleep, I can't move from my bed some days. I feel so low, so alone. Sometimes it still feels that ending my life is the easiest way out. Quick, painless. The only reason I don't sometimes is because my little sister would miss me. I feel that I've failed her, I've failed myself. I feel that I'll never forgive myself for what I have done. That I'm not worthy of being happy anymore. I'm tired of this. I'm just so tired of everything. And I don't deserve to feel so self-pitying. I killed a child. My child. I don't know what to do anymore. I just felt that writing everything out, getting it out of me would help. I guess that it has a bit. I miss my old life, and sometimes I don't know if it's worth it to live as I'm living now.