August 10, 2011
Dogs and Loneliness
What do I want to write about?
I want to write about loneliness, I guess.
Just skip this post if you want, no worries.
I feel like things are pretty decided on the “I have to move out” front. I feel my parents pushing me away, not wanting me in their lives and trying to get me to go back on everything I’ve ever wanted, and I doubt they’re going to take me seriously unless I call their bluff, get out from under them, and start living my life. So away I should go. I’ve run the numbers. I should be able to do it, I think, without too much issue. I’ve got to find a place, of course, but I’ll get started on that soon. Things will work.
When I think about reasons I don’t want to leave, though, I find it surprising that Molly is kind of the top of my list. I mean, she’s very much my mother’s dog. But she likes me a lot. She’s always happy to see me. If I’m sitting here, feeling depressed and lonely, I can go downstairs and sit with her on the couch and at least cheer up a little bit. She’s just always so happy, so pleased that I’m there. I loved Frisky, our previous dog, of course, and he was friendly too, but I was much more one of the people he was watching over and protecting, if that makes sense. Molly wants to be around me, comes to me when she’s scared to hide. She’s just… yeah. I feel stupid that writing that kind of shit brings me near to tears, but here we are. That kind of devotion, so in my face, just melts me.
I’ve got fucking awesome friends and a boyfriend I love. I shouldn’t feel lonely, perse. Frankly, I enjoy alone time anyway, quite often. But even though life is going great, I still do break down from time to time. It’s hard not to sometimes. That’s just life. Molly is my escape plan. If I am feeling really unbearable, she’ll be there to make me feel loved. Silly, maybe, but effective. Losing that kind of scares me. I’m so used to doing it now, I don’t know how else I’d cope. Cara is like, “Oh, get somewhere that allows pets and get your own dog!” and I mean, I suppose that’s an option. I never really thought about it. I guess it might also be an excuse to make my mom accept me more. She’d put up with me for her “grandkid,” I bet. However, it’s also a lot of extra expense that I don’t know if I can handle. So much of that “extra expense” money is still going to be tied up in transitioning for a long while. And I don’t know if Brer wants a dog around when he gets here… I don’t know.
Anyway, that’s why I’m worried about moving out! Stupid, huh? But that’s what’s been on my mind since I decided dragging my heels would make things worse here. Might as well get out there and get the being murdered my mother assumes will happen over with, you know? No time like the present. Onwards to my apparently obviously imminent death!
(Times like this, I’m glad she doesn’t read this. I love her. I don’t want to be this snarky to her face, but fuck, I have to let it out somewhere. I’m allowed to be frustrated. Just not an asshole.)