What's Wrong01:06 Mar 21 2008
Times Read: 577
An extremely close friend of mine told me I hide my emotions to much. His words, I think, were along the lines of 'That's not changing, that's putting your walls up with a big 'Fuck You' sign on your head. I guess all of my friends deserve to know why I've been less then me these past few days. I wrote this Monday, when it all started.
Passion governs me, and it never governs wisely. It always causes problems, breaks my heart into two. My emotions control me and yet I like it half the time. The other half I can't stand it. I was doin good. I didn't think about him for at least 3 weeks other then the thought of saying hello and seeing an old friend and giving a hug, then saying good-bye. Why? Because he's always working when I see him. Yesterday was the first day I couldn't get him out of my head. On top of that I started thinking about when Nicketta died. If I hadn't let her eat so much, if I had shut my drawer, if I hadn’t left her out for so long, maybe she'd still be able to lick my hand when I scratch her chin.
It's my fault she's dead. She was my baby, I should have taken better care of her. I haven't even gone to see her in a while. Now I remember the day I buried her. I didn't want anyone there....no, I wanted one person there, one person who I knew could help me. He knows who he is. I didn't have the heart to call him when I was crying though. When she died, she was on my bed. My sister and dad were in the kitchen talking, and they didn’t do anything to help. No one cared she was dieing. Somehow I knew she would die that night. I knew she was going to die five minutes before she did. I remember sitting there watching her take her last three breaths, gasps of pain, and the last thing she seen was me crying for her. After I wrapped her in my favorite blanket and brought her out to the shed. She was so fucking heavy, but I refused to let him carry her. He wasn’t to touch her, ever. When I got home from school the next day, I took her out of the shed, her eyes were so dull and lifeless, her pretty blue and brown eyes were so…..dead. I couldn’t help but pet her again, knowing I’d never get the chance to after I was done. I had Minnie with me, I don’t think she understood she’d never see Kika again. I put her on that stupid purple sled I never use and pulled it down to the pond. It was so fuckin cold, but I wouldn’t let him bury her. She was my dog, my best friend, my pet. She was my baby and it was my job to do. I remember wanting to bury her under a tree, my favorite one near the bank where I sit and read, but I kept hitting pipes. Then he came down, and made me pull her into the thorns and poison ivy. He dug the bever hole a little bigger, and I put her in there, blanets and all. I was crying then too. He was crying but he didn’t fucking care about her. He didn’t care about Nikki either. Now the two are buried together, and he doesn’t even remember where Nikki is. He never fucking told me.
Nikki, Nicketta and Minnie are all going to be buried together, and they’re all going to have pretty headstones. I’ll be damned if he buries Minnie. I want her right next to Nicketta. Just because noone else will remember my dogs doesn’t mean I wont.
To those of you who don’t know me to well, my dogs are everything to me. I never relied on people for support, I never cried on any friends shoulder. When grandma died I locked myself in my room with my dogs, my first break up, in my room with my dogs. My most recent break-up, in my room with my dogs. Mourning Kika’s death, in my room with my dog. I’m starting to realise there are a few people out there that I can really trust not to hurt me. I’m still iffy on a few, but there are some I know if I get in trouble, I can go to them.
Like I said before, a close friend said I hide my emotions so much. I do it because I don’t want them to be someone else’s problem. I’ve been dealing with my problems on my own for 16 years, so I’m not exactly used to coming right out and saying what’s wrong. I don’t like people to worry, so I hide everything behind my smile and jokes. I’m waiting for that one guy, that one specific guy, who can see past my lies, and tell when theirs really something wrong, and the one who wont leave me alone until I tell him what’s wrong. Who knows if I’ll ever find him, or if I already have. I never really thought about how hiding my emotions fro my friends might impact them, so from now on, I’ll try and be open.
Rj, I know you’re probably reading this, because chances are I sent the link or whatever to you. Thanks for hanging Wednesday, and thanks for making me think. I promise If you ask me what’s wrong, I’ll tell you.
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