I had a stomach ache this morning. So I went to the doctor, and he said that I was pregnant. "But it hurts, doc," I said. "Well," he said, "it normally hurts for the first couple of months. You'll get used to it in no time."

Sounded very strange to me, but well. When I met my father, I told him that I was pregnant. He just nodded, "hm." Everything seemed just right, until I wanted to tell him who the father was: I found out that I haven't slept with anybody. That's really weird. But the thought of having a baby without a father was overwhelming. No, it's certainly not the Holy Spirit. Who could it be?

No one. I really didn't sleep with anyone.

This depressed me. There I was, pregnant, not knowing who the father of the baby was, and my stomach hurts very bad. That was when I started hearing Strauss' Also Sprach Zarathustra from downstairs in the background. That depressed me even worst. And that's also when I started to wake up with grey clouds around my head and a lot of gas in my stomach.

What a bad morning. The depression stayed almost the whole day. Luckily now I realized that it was only a nightmare. That's why I can write again now after 17 days of silence.

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