I'm being inundated with text messages and phone calls and all these kind and generous offers of support and condolences.
And all I Really want to do, is punch something.
the world offers me no comfort. my bed is empty. the spot she inhabits - empty.
I walk passed her water bowl, her food bowl, her chair, her sleeping spots, her litter box, the pile of laundry she used to make a nest just 4 days ago. I walk passed it and look away. look ahead. look down. look to the left. to the right. anywhere that isn't directly at the spot where she SHOULD be. but she isn't.
everyone keeps saying, it gets easier. time time time. easier easier easier.
I want to slash open skin and crack open skulls and bash in the faces of perfect people who get to go about their lives.
because I can't sleep. and I can't cry anymore. and I can't stand up or lay down or sit or find any fucking moment in my day that isn't completely fucking empty.
I'm so angry. I don't even know why.
the unjust. the unfair. I've dealt with this all before.
I've seen this all before.
but I'm alone. I'm completely alone, no matter what anyone says.
Smokey saw me through every single defining moment of my life.
and she's gone.
and I can't feel her anymore. I can't feel anything but putrid rage and emptiness.
I want to get in my car and drive.
and the sickest part is that I want to drive somewhere that I have no place being.
to someone I have no business seeing.
but she's the only one right now who understands. and that's something more than this disgusting nothing that I feel.