Think I'm a bit depressed. No kidding. I think this past week has been deserved of feeling less than wonderful.
Been forcing myself to go out. I need to. I can't sit at home and wallow all the time. But then again, I'm not much in the mood to do anything at all and it apparently shows.
I know most people wonder what exactly my deal is, being upset about a dog. But she was a best friend, always there when I needed her. She's no longer around to sing with me when I practice, wake me up in the morning because she needed to pee, remind me to feed her. The boys are just not the same, they didn't have the same needs, and they were so young when I got them, that they weren't as grateful as she was for the adoptive home. She had been found wandering the woods, probably at age 11 or 12, shuffled from one adoption group to another until I got her, badly healed broken ribs, someone put cigarettes out on her back. She was a sweet sweet dog.
And a big pain in the butt, but that's ok. She was old, and she deserved love. And she got love, although she was picky about when she got it.
And so I'm depressed.
The guy didn't help either. I really didn't think that he would do something like this. Just disappear. As I've alluded to earlier, there are certain things that make me wonder about his disappearance, which I won't go into, but they also make it sort of strange. Someone asked me if I thought he'd had an accident. I have no idea. I can't say. Maybe? He gave me his parent's phone number, I could call, but if there is nothing wrong, I'll look like a stalking idiot.
So I sit and wonder. And wonder. And wonder.
Everything keeps reminding me of him. A country singer we bonded over comes on the radio, and then a hockey team I associate with him is on the tv shortly thereafter. Cosmic joke, irony, whatever, just makes me sit and wonder why.
And then I think, fuck him.
We'll just leave it at that.