opening

My story as long and only gets worse. It’s come to the point death has a comfort where it used to hold fear, even hell seems like it might not be so bad if I could just get away from a brain that can’t control emotions. I used to feel bad for animals in high kill shelters. I’ve become jealous. I know cry for those in no-kill shelters. Empathize. Those animals have no place in the world, no one to loce them, no one to make happy, no one to give them purpose, the things that give our souls joy. Many have been abused. Yet no one will just let them die. They feel so empty, their souls are deflated. I’m a pound puppy.

I have a full time job but that’s all I have left at this point as far as stability goes. Friends come and go, I was last living with my parents. I left to go work on a friday 14 wks ago today. Haven’t been back. I stay with friends, bfs that come and go, my sister’s, mc clubhouse, wherever. I’m a pound puppy walking thru an earthquake.

I can’t sleep. Waiting for a msg or call. Waiting for someone to say that they need me. Or want me. Something. Sometimes I’m up for days. Not on drugs. Just a pound puppy.