I keep forgetting that everyone is going through something. That everyone has battles and secrets and scars and fears. I keep forgetting that we all go home to something. That we all wake up somewhere. That we all have a life and experiences that aren’t written on our faces. I keep forgetting to show compassion and love and kindness to everyone, because even those who are aren’t easy to love could tell me things that would bring me to tears, and things that would bring me great joy. I keep forgetting that we are all just humans doing the best we can to get to where we want to be, and not one of us can be perfect. Today a young man reminded me to practice acceptance and understanding. Today I was humbled. Today I was reminded that though most days we are brave, some days are weak, timid and ashamed. I have some love to spread tomorrow.

I went to the pound today. I’m not actually looking to get a new dog yet, just kind of spending some time there to see if it starts to feel right to bring one home.

I met this little guy, his name was Bozo. Something about the way he approached me when I went to look in his cage stood out to me. Sort of like we had an understanding. I know, I know, it’s just a dog. With everything that has happened lately, though, I’ve found myself more alone than ever before. I simply don’t have as many good friends as I used to, and without my dog, my best friend, here to tell everything to, I haven’t felt connected to anyone, or anything.

Part of it was the timing. I just applied to graduate from my junior college, I just applied to a university four hours from home, and I’d just returned from a trip to that university the week he died. All of these feelings about growing up and leaving home weren’t settling well and then this dog I’d had, since I was eight years old, was just suddenly gone with so little warning. Every last piece of my childhood was being taken from me.

Alone really doesn’t describe it. Nothing described how I felt until I held this little dog. He was so eager, so sweet and loving, but he had no one, nothing. He was just this little man in a little cage waiting for good news. I held him, and I felt a connection to something living. A connection I’d been looking for so desperately.

That’s what I was, that’s what I am - a stray, waiting for good news.

being excited about the gifts you are going to give, not the gifts you may receive, is a wonderful exception.

The apartment had never been well lit, but with the light from Jady’s aquarium gone, you couldn’t even see who was sitting next to you. I missed the aquarium. I missed the buzz of the florescent light. I missed everything in that room, and every detail that I could remember from last May. All eleven of us who had crammed into that two bedroom apartment spent our evenings sitting on the floor, on arms of sofas and chairs. All of us talking at once. The noise, the spirit, the fresh feeling of youth in the room.

I missed what this place was before Jady had taken her aquarium. Before Jensen took his television and the radio (which actually belonged to Marcus). Before Erin had taken her bookshelf, books and knick knacks included. Before Marcus took Bethany and the dog. Before Lindsey took her life.

Jessie lit a cigarette. I watched the orange glow float from her lips to where it smoldered in the ash tray. She cleared her throat and after a heavy sigh said, ”This place is becoming more and more of a ghost town.”

you always find me, even in the dark of night.

Constantly surrounded by people, he’s always alone.

just better without you.

Either the pool is growing shallow, or I’m learning how to swim.