Four days
That's all it's been. Four fucking days.
I can't stay here.
I spent Friday night and most of Saturday at a friend's house, because I just..can't be here.
When I came back home Saturday, the smell..stench, is more like it. The old blanket on the floor. The water bowl, still full of water.
The only thing keeping me sane is the ton of homework I have. But if I come away from it, even for a minute. Just look up from the book, expecting that big black mutt to sigh, wanting a good rub with a foot..but there's no one there. Just a spot on the old comforter on the floor where he should be. Water bowl..still full of water. The fleeting thought of jumping up and yanking open the door, saying, "What're you doing out here buddy, you know you're supposed to be in here with me!" But no scratch at the door comes...no soft little whiiiine of not wanting to be out there, of wanting to be with me..
He wasn't a pet. I swear I'll beat anyone who says that he was. He wasn't 'just a friend'. He was mine, and I was his. He was closer to me than anyone. He was my best friend..no..he was my brother.
Yeah..he was my brother..
I lost my brother on Wednesday. A part of my family. A part of me.
I've never been this miserable before. Not like this..this is right down to the very core. There's a large piece of me missing..a festering wound. And as time passes, it only gets worse. Every time I think about my mutt..my big baby...I have to fight, hard, to not just break down and cry. To date..I've held it back most of the time to just a few, hopefully unnoticed tears.
I can't do this.
I need to get out. Out of here. Out of my..*our* room.
I miss my family..
I can't stay here.
I spent Friday night and most of Saturday at a friend's house, because I just..can't be here.
When I came back home Saturday, the smell..stench, is more like it. The old blanket on the floor. The water bowl, still full of water.
The only thing keeping me sane is the ton of homework I have. But if I come away from it, even for a minute. Just look up from the book, expecting that big black mutt to sigh, wanting a good rub with a foot..but there's no one there. Just a spot on the old comforter on the floor where he should be. Water bowl..still full of water. The fleeting thought of jumping up and yanking open the door, saying, "What're you doing out here buddy, you know you're supposed to be in here with me!" But no scratch at the door comes...no soft little whiiiine of not wanting to be out there, of wanting to be with me..
He wasn't a pet. I swear I'll beat anyone who says that he was. He wasn't 'just a friend'. He was mine, and I was his. He was closer to me than anyone. He was my best friend..no..he was my brother.
Yeah..he was my brother..
I lost my brother on Wednesday. A part of my family. A part of me.
I've never been this miserable before. Not like this..this is right down to the very core. There's a large piece of me missing..a festering wound. And as time passes, it only gets worse. Every time I think about my mutt..my big baby...I have to fight, hard, to not just break down and cry. To date..I've held it back most of the time to just a few, hopefully unnoticed tears.
I can't do this.
I need to get out. Out of here. Out of my..*our* room.
I miss my family..