Free write.

Saturday died in my arms last night. Yesterday I had a feeling it would be that day. I just had a feeling. I have never watched something die before. He wouldn’t eat or drink and just wanted to snuggle, and as soon as he stopped breathing, his teeth clenched and his entire body went stiff. I was really confused and am really sad. He had a nice last day, though. After I came home from the darkroom my dad and i gave him a warm bath in the backyard while he nibbled on apples. then I wrapped him up in a little towel burrito and we walked all around the neighborhood and it sounds stupid but I just showed him all these flowers, because I thought maybe he, in his little rabbit brain, would think they were really pretty or something. I think he did. And I talked to him a lot yesterday, more than usual. Told him about when I first met him, told him about a bunch of nice times we’d had together in case he’d forgotten in his old age. I sound retarded being this sentimental about a rabbit but honestly he was one of my best friends. And when someone or something is there almost your whole life, whether it’s a person, or an animal, or even something dumb like a table or a blanket, you feel it when it leaves. I suppose it was time. But it doesn’t make it easier. He has been there almost my whole life. It’s crazy. Loved that little buddy. so much.

WHAT REALLY GRINDS MY GEARS?

when people say “you don’t know what i’ve been through, who i am, what i’ve seen, blah blah blaaah.” Frankly, we live in the sort of society where no one actually cares. I mean, not everyone has a sob story but even if they do it should never be an excuse. (As Stephen Chbosky so cleverly put.) So unless someone really asks, just keep lame comments like that to yourself. You just look like a stupid, attention-craved, angst-driven teenager. Amen.

THOUGHTS.

I cleaned my room out today. Strange things happen when I clean my room. Such as finding things you don’t necessarily need/want to find. You’ve kept it under all this crap for so long that when you really take the time to gut it and examine you’re kind of stuck in some weird parallel universe that shipped you back to wherever that thing had you to begin with. I found movie tickets to Dear John, polaroids of my first fish, letters from exes, old posters, notebooks I often took my anger out on, presents from lovers that I couldn’t bring myself to give back, old band shirts, a thing I made in school when I was 4 years old. It’s endless. And I hate it. I hate having things that bring me back but I could never trash them, because no matter how many trash cans you put it in it won’t be gone. I hate how something so seemingly insignificant has so much power. You can never stop being human. Screw it.