My Cervix Is Hard And Low But I'm Pregnant

for the rest, thirty-four years and twenty-five of OCD. I've got also a compulsive desire to understand. more or less everything that surrounds me. indeed, what surrounds me, just what interests me. and things I'm interested in are neither few nor minor. basically: what comes after death? says, heavy parts. ok, I'll say thirty-four years but, please, can someone, just once, tell me if he remembered something more important? In short: We all stumbled on this planet, that we are born . birth is not a nonsense makes the difference between being there and not. everything else merely follows from it: work, family, love, food, sex, wine, cars, myopia, arthritis, green pens, animals, books, philosophy, cold. you take it for granted the fact they were born. I do not. disorder? probably yes, but the point is that we go forward because they remove the fundamental reality: you die. I want to talk about? Certainly, this stuff becomes depressed at times. perhaps the removal does just survive, I do not know. but the problem remains intact: there was none before, then we, then? and then what? how can I live if I do not know?