I Am Tired Of Myself

Today, I am tired of myself.

Tired of my thoughts. They keep coming.

Tired of turning over the same feelings. The ones I don't even want to feel, but they surface anyhow.

Tired of hearing my own commentary. My own logic.

I am bored of my hopes and dreams.

Tired of my struggle.

It matters not what I think. How I feel. What I want.

None of the things I am hoping for will ever truly be mine.

And I am tired of letting go to have the same heroes and villains show up.

Tired of unpacking the traumas. It is exhausting to keep confronting and facing and trying too hard to let it just be. Because there's nothing I can do.

I know that.

Nothing.

All of this is nothing.

A blanket of nothing laid over a body of nothing that holds a nothing heart and nothing thoughts in a nothing head.

I am tired of myself today.

Tired of trying to be better.

Tired of trying to do better.

Tired of trying.

Today, I am tired.

Ten Fingers & Toes

To Think

I Was Someone

Who Believed Perfection

Didn't Exist

That Love At First Sight

Was A Myth

Who Thought I Had Loved

Before This

Practice Makes Perfect

If I keep drawing I'll get better? That's what they say.

Prompt #2: Divide

Witches divide their potions up, right?
 

What The Fuck, October?

So, October is my favourite of all the months. It's the best time of year with indisputably the best holiday that isn't even a holiday, Halloween. I wait all year for October because I know, deep my bones, just the fact that it is October will make me feel better. About myself. About life. About the world. But let's just put the brakes on because it's the second today and things are pretty shit. Let me ignore the lower back pain I'm hobbling through and the fact my sweet demon toddler was up until five in the morning absolutely irrationally inconsolable.

A mass shooting in Vegas?

Tom Petty dying?

The shit show that is American politics which has become a norm to the point that people just aren't talking about it.

Seriously. No ... seriously?

We are supposed to be frolicking through leaves and hand-making costumes for parties where we will gorge on candy and watch horror movies.

Instead the horror movie is the world we live. I don't know. Maybe it's because my DivaCup is over-flowering or the fact I haven't had sugar or caffeine for four days, but fuck.

Yeah, I said it. Fuck.

Am I really contemplating sitting October out?

In other news, I am trying to do Inktober, even though I don't know how to draw.


Day 1
Prompt: Swift

Tonight

Tonight, I am lonely.

There is this colossal emptiness in my heart and in my home. The shadow that followed me through my day is gone. One minute he was here, and now ... he's not. 

I thought I had longer. I thought we had longer. But we didn't.  He didn't.  

It's clichéd, but he was my best friend. I spent more time with him than most everyone. He loved me with a love that was greater than any I've known. Maybe any that I ever will know. He was loyal and kind and silly and such a dummy. But he was good ... even when he was bad. 

All he wanted was love. 

I hope he knew how truely cherished he was. 

My days were built around him. His walks. His food. His health. His happiness. And his days were built around me. Where I was. When I'd be home. How long I'd be gone for. When I was with him, I was never alone because his eyes watched me. He followed me from room to room. And when I stepped outside he waited for me ... and often not very patiently. 

Now there is no one watching me. No one hoping to steal a pat. A kiss. A hug. No one at my feet. No one by my bath. And I'm lonely without my shadow. 

Dixon was part of me. A part of my identity. A massive part of my heart. A sizable chunk of my life. And now he's gone. Everything is a miss. 

I am trying to think of all the good times. All the funny times. The frustratingly ridiculous times but my mind keeps turning to what's missing. What is no more. 

No more puppy dreams. Water slurping. Droplets on the floor. Dew claw scratches. Cold nose kisses. Bath breath panting. Terrible flatulance. Paws dragging on the floor. Whipping tail. Soft ears. Big sighs. Leash pulling. Sporadic barking. Barrel chested hugs. Oversized lap dog. Couch rearranging. Garbage diving. Food stealing. Groaning. Visitor leg humping. Spooning. Banana sharing. Zoomies. Nail biting. Velveteen neck flaps. Wobbly lips. White tipped hairs on his tail. Excessive allergy scratching. Nobel air sniffs. Side-saddle sitting. Coffee table standing. Passenger seat navigation. Playtime dress up. 

No more adventures. 

He really was the best worst dog. And six years wasn't enough. Not for him. Not for me. 

I'm lost and I don't know how to find my way without my trusty companion by my side. 

Last night, I took him for his last walk. As we came dowm the train tracks, the sun broke the clouds and a rainbow appeared. Maybe it didn't mean anything but it seemed so fitting.

Goodbye, Dixon. My dummy. My doofus. My gentle nugget of love. My tank. My clumsy oaf. My trouble.

Goodbye, my shadow. Sleep peacefully and take my love wherever you go.