Work Text:
Death.
It smells like sterile.
It has the color gold.
It feels like hell.
It calls for a hug.
November XXth, XXXX
My Dog died today… not much else. I need a hug from a friend. I can’t hug my mom, step-dad, step-brother, or sister, or they’ll drown too… but they’re already drowning. It feels… numb. I can’t speak correctly, all I can think is the question why, and hope that she gets a peaceful aftermath. But, at least she isn’t suffering… right? I don’t know. I don’t know if you can even see this. I feel like nothing more than a blip in the radar. I know that I got attached… it’s hard not to… I… I can’t. She was a golden retriever poodle mix, didn’t do much, we used to call her a hag. She was just lying there… so serene… so oblivious… I’ve been told I need to feel, but I just can’t. So I listen to angsty songs, dark, foreboding, and vicious. I feel like I’m a broken heart, with a working shell. I need you. I don’t think Jem would let me hug her, Esther would be sorry, but same distance, I don’t feel close enough to Talon, or Grace for that matter. I need you, but you won’t see me until tuesday… I’m empty… I can’t… I need… i’m not. Today has been painted with death. I’m going to try to make myself laugh thanks.