when you share bad news and people say sorry??! I don’t understand??? you did nothing wrong shut up don’t pity me
Dealing with the death of your beloved pet
I can’t, I can’t do it.
8 years old, the day after my birthday, I woke up to find a black miniature dachshund sleeping at the bottom of my bed. It was Sonny-boy. My grandparents knew how much I loved their dog that when they moved overseas they decided to leave him in my hands. I was so honored and happy and excited because I loved him so dearly, and to this day, I still do.
I’m 18 in a couple months, and it breaks my heart because I don’t think he’s going to be able to make it to our 10th anniversary.
This morning I took Sonny into the vet for a very casual check up, however it quickly turned into a break out of unfortunate news. They found a large tumor in his jaw, and because of his age (16), we all decided that the multiple arrangement of surgeries would be far too traumatic for him. My Sonny is under a lot of pain at the moment, so they patched him up with 3 day long pain killers.
3 days? is that all? But I’m not ready!
My heart is sore and my body is filled with heavy sorrow. My face stings from all the crying and I’m so so so tired.
I’m trying to cope, I’m trying to be able to accept that death is a part of life. I’m being selfish and pleading for him to remain by my side, like it’s always been.
I’m saying “don’t leave me, please, don’t leave me.” and thinking “take me with you, please, take me with you.”
I have no friends…
whys everything gotta turn to shit for me
A new friendship has been kindled between myself and this English boy, with brooding good looks of a messy wad of chocolatey brown hair, a sharp jawline and piercing green eyes. He’s a musical talent in multiple instruments and raw vocals, where he erupts a deep tired voice that captivated me from the very beginning… and on the first 5 seconds of our phone call, I was utterly hooked. Late night phone calls are a thing for us because our timelines are so different, but he’s so totally worth waking up at 3 in the morning for, because he always has something deliciously intriguing to share, with this seemingly infinite vocabulary of articulation. He has such a big view on the world, sees so much beauty and potential in it, and yet, quite ironically, he carries very little confidence in himself, which is sad really, because he’s so fucking brilliant and he doesn’t even know it.
I love the misuse of grammar and punctuation, the chaos and the mistakes, the lazy scrawled out letters that are indecipherable, curling and twisting about, I love WRITING IN CAPITALS, even when I’m not angry or yelling over and about stuff, I love using big words to create emphasis and small words to show off my sleeplessness, my short thoughts, a little bit of laziness maybe…, I love coffee stains and pages torn out of books! what could’ve been there?! what did it say?! secrets! puzzles! mysteries! gigantic question marks! …untold answers, I yearn for them all. I love to write! when I’m happy! and sad! and angry! and bored! inspired or bitter, I have so many thoughts I’m my head and I need to get them out! word vomit, smothered over the pages, it’s disgusting and vulgar, yet so truthful and honest, and brilliantly brilliantly beautiful! it makes no sense! such lazy grammar! so many spelling mistakes! it’s a madness in my head, it’s my head! and my words! it’s everything bottled up inside, now for the world to read! or maybe just one, or maybe! maybe it’s going straight to the trash, for no one to see, not even me.
I have all these scenes in my head and I want to write about them, but the very second I put my hand to the page, my mind goes blank.
you find yourself stuck in the middle of some kind of eerie hallway, and suddenly you hear a noise, a rumble, a crack, a roar, something like that, and you turn around and the light flickers and before you know it, one by one the lights behind you start to turn off, one by one, bang bang bang bang! get out! you’ve got to escape! the darkness is creeping in on you and you’re filled with fear and anxiety and you’re running, you can’t stop running and you’re trying to escape the darkness but the lights keep turning off, one by one behind you, bang bang bang bang, the darkness is brushing up against your spine and you can feel it’s cold mist hovering around you but you won’t stop running because you need to get out, it’s coming, you can feel it, the light in front of you is all that’s left and the darkness is caving in and before you know it you’ve ran out of breath and you look up and find that the darkness has beat you down and the lights infront of you are going out now and bang bang bang you’re standing in the dark all alone and you’re scared and you’re cold and there’s nothing you can do about it because it’s all over, and so you drop to the floor, tears streaming down your face and you’re clawing at the very strands of your hair and you’re ripping them out one by one because it’s all over and there’s nothing you can do about it. You find a hand gun in the back pocket of your jeans and put it to your forehead, you can’t stop crying but you know now that this is the only way out, there’s no other way of escape and so you swallow hard, wipe the tears off of your face and before you know it, someone beat you to your very own death, bang bang bang bang, they shot you in the back and now you’re dead, your lifeless body collapses to the ground, and your soul goes straight to hell.
Han Solo be like; “hello, yes, I nominate Chewie, Luke and Leia to the ALS frozen carbonite challenge.”