She unearthed a handful of sand and threw it in your eyes She blinded you and me and her and us and took away our voices blocked her ears so she could not hear closed her eyes so she did not have to see cut out her heart She does not feel like I do like you do like she does like we do She does not care
You left me
I wanted to unearth a handful of sand and throw it in your eyes I wanted to blind you take away your voice block my ears so I could not hear close my eyes so I did not have to see cut out my heart
But I left you too
I do not feel like she does I feel like I do and I still care and will always care about you
I am sitting at my desk, writing to the sound of Matthew snoring. My stomach hurts (I shouldn’t have eaten so much for dinner), but I am so, so happy. I cannot remember the last time I was this excited about a story. I do not know where anything is heading as of now, but that’s the fun part, right? I’ve got my pen, notebook, and motivation. I love writing. I love this moment.
Because the apartment was too quiet for me to handle, and because this little guy was going to be put down at the shelter he was at, I adopted a new pup.
Sam is such a sweet dog. His previous owner surrendered him to the shelter. Sam is a bit underweight still (we are working on fattening him up) and afraid of most new people, but he is doing so, so well here. He loves chewing bones, hiding said bones in our shoes, cuddling with us on the couch and bed, stealing our pens, giving kisses, and wagging that crazy tail of his. (Note: his tail rarely stops moving, and when it goes, it's like a freaking propeller. I have been slapped around quite a bit and must admit: I love that tail! Also, his whole butt moves back and forth when he wags his tail.)
Jake is my miniature Schnauzer pup. He turned 4 years old 2 and a half weeks ago. The past few weeks we have been in and out of the vet with the Jakester. Today, we found out Jake has degenerative kidney disease. The vet told me even with fluids and antibiotics every. single. day. he won't make it any longer than a few weeks. We have to put him down. Tomorrow is spring break, and I am going to Charlotte to visit my family with Matthew. My sister has told me she wants to be there when it happens. I still cannot even believe this is real. It doesn't feel real.
I wish it weren't real.
I don't remember what life was like before Jake. He is the best dog. ever. He helps with my anxiety and wakes my roommate Kate up when she is having nightmares. He just knows things.
Matthew and I hiked Pinnacle today. It was beautiful and scary and magnificent. I faced my fears and crossed this crazy massive rock face on the edge of the mountain and ate lunch and wrote in my journal. The hike was seven miles long (3.5 miles pretty much straight up, 3.5 miles down) and took five hours. I feel amazing right now. Exhausted, but amazing. I can't stop smiling.
I go to sleep when I do to avoid the night. Darkness, she brings the thoughts words voices sounds she brings with her anxiety memories I’d rather forget fear. The darkness is so loud deafening if hurts my
He makes it better but we are so hot underneath above these blankets. I drape his arm over me and the thoughts do not Leave, I beg with every inch of myself. This is everything I try to avoid I go to sleep when I do but they still find me.
White noise. I am wide awake, thinking the thoughts words voices sounds memories I’d rather forget What if he finds me?
No. I am safe here with him. safe safe safe safe Don’t listen to the loud noise deafening, it hurts my present future.
I have had one cup of coffee today. I went for a walk in the park with Matthew. We watched as my dog ran around, sniffing and peeing and smiling and drinking from the river. He is always so happy. It makes me happy. I am listening to my best friend laugh so hard she is on the verge of crying. We are leaving soon for classes. We have a philosophy class together. It is a class on Friedrich Nietzsche. His writing is beautiful. His thoughts are influential. He makes me happy. He makes me want to throw his words at the wall and ceiling and out the window. Nietzsche famously said, "God is dead." I am a Christian. I believe in God. I still like some of Nietzsche's thoughts and words. There are atheists in my class. They laugh at Christians and say rude things each class. I sit quietly, tapping my pencil against my notebook. I wish they could see that all Christians do not preach hate. Maybe I will speak up today. Maybe others will speak up too.
met Matthew's grandfather, aunt, and uncle. waited for Matthew's grandfather to remember names, places, things. ate a lot of good food. drank coffee. drank hot chocolate. wanted to cry for no reason at all. laughed. went for a hike through the forest and watched and listened to the river run alongside us. did laundry. read for African American Literature. talked to my mother. talked to my sister. wanted to cry again for her and them because her troubles never stop. took my dog for a walk. hugged, kissed, snuggled with him. loved.
Classes are beginning again, and I am writing again, and I am running again. The world is back in motion.
I am almost always smiling.
I am happy.
My roommate is beside me playing on her Kindle Fire, and Jake the pup is asleep in his chair across from us. I have coffee, I have my bag packed and ready to go, and I have an hour and a half of writing time this morning.
What would the trees say if they could speak? Would they whisper their secrets into our ears? Would they tell us their worries? Dreams? Do they have dreams? Would they speak of the ones who came before us, And tell us not to worry. What would the trees say if they could speak?
What would the grass say if it could talk? Would it tell us to step off? Or would it say, "Carry on." That we're stronger than we seem. Would it talk to the trees? The flowers, The weeds? What would the grass say if it could talk?
Sometimes I think maybe the trees can speak. The trees, the grass, the flower, the leaves. They speak to us all. Maybe they are always speaking. Maybe We're just not listening.