(no subject)
avoidance has finally proved to be the backfiring tactic everyone warned me it would be.
maybe it wasn't even avoidence, so much as it was neglect. i came to that realization when i arrived home last night to an unusually quiet room. as i approached my parotts cage, i heard not a sound and i knew what to expect behind the navy terrycloth towel draped over its bars.
there was florence on the newspaper floor of the cage, right next to a bowl full of food. i feel like i killed her. i feel awful. i knew i fed her regularly, and i would pour water--not just any water--but bottled water, into her bowl.
but when i got PRESIDENT LITTLEFACE, i tended not to take her out of her cage nearly as much, for the obvious fear that the cat would mar her.
the worst part is, i wasn't home often enough to see a change in her appetite and behavior. and when i do come home, i sit downstairs. i hate being in my room. i can't even take her out of her cage. i havent even told my parents yet, because everyone loves her so much. i've had her for so long. there is a picture of me as a freshman in high school wearing a purple and black striped shirt w/ florence perched on my shoulder. i kept thinking of that picture. i have told maybe two of my friends, and one of them i told over the computer. so itsounds like a joke:
"my bird died :("
"haaha awwwwwwwwwwwww im sorry :("
i hate instant messages. they trivialize everything. the ENTIRE "ETHERWORLD" trivializes everything. it's such an impersonal medium.
i should have been more responsible, more aware of what was taking place around me, rather than rushing in my house to change my shirt after work and finding someone who knows somewhere to go with something to do.
i feel upset even talking about this...why do i even bother? i've learned its better to keep things to myself and deal with them on my own, rather than request advice and attempt to evoke pity and hint at the need for my actions to be confirmed as smart ones.
maybe it wasn't even avoidence, so much as it was neglect. i came to that realization when i arrived home last night to an unusually quiet room. as i approached my parotts cage, i heard not a sound and i knew what to expect behind the navy terrycloth towel draped over its bars.
there was florence on the newspaper floor of the cage, right next to a bowl full of food. i feel like i killed her. i feel awful. i knew i fed her regularly, and i would pour water--not just any water--but bottled water, into her bowl.
but when i got PRESIDENT LITTLEFACE, i tended not to take her out of her cage nearly as much, for the obvious fear that the cat would mar her.
the worst part is, i wasn't home often enough to see a change in her appetite and behavior. and when i do come home, i sit downstairs. i hate being in my room. i can't even take her out of her cage. i havent even told my parents yet, because everyone loves her so much. i've had her for so long. there is a picture of me as a freshman in high school wearing a purple and black striped shirt w/ florence perched on my shoulder. i kept thinking of that picture. i have told maybe two of my friends, and one of them i told over the computer. so itsounds like a joke:
"my bird died :("
"haaha awwwwwwwwwwwww im sorry :("
i hate instant messages. they trivialize everything. the ENTIRE "ETHERWORLD" trivializes everything. it's such an impersonal medium.
i should have been more responsible, more aware of what was taking place around me, rather than rushing in my house to change my shirt after work and finding someone who knows somewhere to go with something to do.
i feel upset even talking about this...why do i even bother? i've learned its better to keep things to myself and deal with them on my own, rather than request advice and attempt to evoke pity and hint at the need for my actions to be confirmed as smart ones.