“Baby girl I can’t imagine what it’s like for you/I got you pregnant now inside there is a life in you/I know you wonderin’ if this is gonna make me think about wifin’ you/Like if you had my first child will I spend my whole life with you?”—J. Cole “Lost Ones”
He sat in the driver’s side of the car, watching the children play at the park in front of him. He felt nostalgic. He subconsciously ran his hand back and forth across his forehead. He didn’t know how to feel. While he watched the little children run around, he wondered how the-little-one-who-was-once-there would’ve ran like.
He had mixed emotions. Logically, it was the right decision to make, but it still hurt his heart. He was in his second year of college with the dreams of making it as a hoop star. He wouldn’t have been able to handle it—him, nor his baby’s mother.
“And I ain’t too proud to tell you that I cry sometime/I cry sometimes about it/And girl I know it hurt, but if this world was perfect/then we can make it work, but I doubt it.”
Their relationship had already been bumpy and the idea of a child just added more pressure to it. They would’ve been fighting a lot and they both knew it. He didn’t want her to be stressed and depressed during her pregnancy. He didn’t want his child to grow up in a household where the parents were always fighting—no child deserved that.
“We made the right decision,” he told himself over and over again.
He sat in the driver’s side of the car, watching the children play at the park in front of him. He watched the little children run around; he longed to see the-little-one-who-was-once-there run around.
“I should’ve known that you was just another nigga/No different from them other niggas who be claimin’ that they love just to get up in them drawers.”
And he felt ashamed. He played the “typical nigga” in this scenario. He loved her for the sex—nothing more, nothing less. He didn’t know how far it would go, but when the thought of forever made its appearance he panicked. He wasn’t proud, but he threw out the option of “handling” it.
He knew she looked at him in a different light.
“And I ain’t too proud to tell you that I cry sometime/I cry sometimes about it.”
And he did. The day after she got her procedure he cried something terrible. He was a murderer. While he sat in the waiting room he justified his reasoning. He was too young. He had dreams. He didn’t have the means to give it the life that it deserved.
He prayed for God’s forgiveness. He prayed for his unborn child’s forgiveness.
“We made the right decision.”
He wiped his tears while sitting in the driver’s side of the car, watching the children play at the park in front of him. He watched the little children run around; he longed to see the-little-one-who-was-once-there run around.
“We made the right decision.”
“But what about yo seed nigga? What about yo seed nigga? What about yo seed nigga? I said what about yo seed?”