(no subject)
I'm watching my little mouse die :(
I can't really handle it.
I went to check on her; she wasn't moving, so I blew on her, and she still didn't move, so I lifted the little hut thing and saw that she REALLY wasn't moving. Like, her tail was frozen in a strange position. I thought she must be dead. I felt relieved and sad; she's been in awful shape, she ruined the nerves in her leg beyond repair (she was removing her own skin, I believe because of infection), etc., so I've been hoping she'd die so she wouldn't suffer.
I started trying to scoop her up without touching her or having to be made aware of rigor mortis. Then I realized she was breathing. Once every eight seconds, almost imperceptibly. I wouldn't have realized if a piece of bedding didn't move each time.
I lost it entirely. I'm still in the process of losing it. Typing about it is therapy because I'm trying to get a hold of myself and it's not easy. I can't stand the idea of things dying. Dead is one thing (depressing enough), but waiting for the life to leave her so that I can get rid of all evidence that she was ever here and stop being a total fucking retard about it is REALLY HARD. I check every half hour or so, and she's still fucking breathing. I have no idea how. If I prod her she doesn't move at all.
I want to do this tonight so that I don't have to spend tomorrow morning disposing of her and crying like a five year old girl. I have to go to work tomorrow. I'm depressed enough as it is with Seasonal Affective Disorder (or the normal human reaction to winter that people like to call Seasonal Affective Disorder), and I just can't bear the idea of showing up late and having to explain why without losing my shit.
I hate this. Thank god I got a cat on Thursday; he's proving to be crucial to my mental health.
And I feel very fucking lonely right now.
[/pathetic]
I can't really handle it.
I went to check on her; she wasn't moving, so I blew on her, and she still didn't move, so I lifted the little hut thing and saw that she REALLY wasn't moving. Like, her tail was frozen in a strange position. I thought she must be dead. I felt relieved and sad; she's been in awful shape, she ruined the nerves in her leg beyond repair (she was removing her own skin, I believe because of infection), etc., so I've been hoping she'd die so she wouldn't suffer.
I started trying to scoop her up without touching her or having to be made aware of rigor mortis. Then I realized she was breathing. Once every eight seconds, almost imperceptibly. I wouldn't have realized if a piece of bedding didn't move each time.
I lost it entirely. I'm still in the process of losing it. Typing about it is therapy because I'm trying to get a hold of myself and it's not easy. I can't stand the idea of things dying. Dead is one thing (depressing enough), but waiting for the life to leave her so that I can get rid of all evidence that she was ever here and stop being a total fucking retard about it is REALLY HARD. I check every half hour or so, and she's still fucking breathing. I have no idea how. If I prod her she doesn't move at all.
I want to do this tonight so that I don't have to spend tomorrow morning disposing of her and crying like a five year old girl. I have to go to work tomorrow. I'm depressed enough as it is with Seasonal Affective Disorder (or the normal human reaction to winter that people like to call Seasonal Affective Disorder), and I just can't bear the idea of showing up late and having to explain why without losing my shit.
I hate this. Thank god I got a cat on Thursday; he's proving to be crucial to my mental health.
And I feel very fucking lonely right now.
[/pathetic]