I have no doubt that one day I must have kids, that no matter how much the minusses may outnumber the plusses; I'll regret not having them when I 'm past the procreative age. And yet, not 24 hours sharing a limited space with the type of humans that I would hypothetically spend twenty years of my life breeding, feeding, educating, caring, washing and clothing, I have concluded that I may not be the stuff mothers are made off.
Also I'm emotional anyday, around pre-school kids I am devoid of a reason. And I work hard enough too keep these two in balance, I must not strive to extremities, this will not improve the quality of my life.
Dear reader, I am aware that this is more a public letter to myself then a true blogpost, but it is merely public so that you may remind me of my own words. It shall be necessary soon enough.
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