I know this girl.

She has a skin condition that is linked to a host of other hormonal misfirings. And really, she never could get it under control until someone gave her one pill. And that one pill is not benign, but it helps. It helped one aspect of her life that would only be referred to as Control.

So she set herself up as a guinea pig, agreed to take this drug far beyond the boundaries of government approval. As long as she was honest, and kept herself childless, she was fine within the system, as some type of unauthorized subject. She was, in the process, a control.

And when she told the truth, life kicked in.

“You’re married now, so I can’t give you this pill anymore. Because if you get pregnant, you might sue me. Because others have shown statistically, I could be held responsible. Therefore, I can’t give you this pill that you and I both know you need, to keep you from falling apart, hormone by hormone, day by day. Well, that’s just life. Congratulations on your marriage.”

Her closest living relative is on probation for domestic violence. A liar, a drunk, and refusing to take help. Claiming it's not by choice, it's from a short list of relations who can’t help it, and whom everyone agrees aren’t worth the powder to blow them to hell. The good genetics are such unaware nice people that they get smashed into dust, every time. Nobody will admit this but the girl. It should make her feel better, but it doesn’t. Is there no remedy to genetic ill? If so, this girl tries not to care. But she does care because she was born that way.

I know this girl. It’s not her fault. It’s just life.

Do you know why this girl has no children? It’s not because she was never married before. It’s because she never wanted to bring someone into a world and tell them, “That’s just life.”