It's been three days since I last saw Rosie. My foster dog, who I don't think I've mentioned on this blog.
I adopted this beautiful creature on November 15th in a snowstorm at around 9pm. I fell in love with this little girl, and for the first time since I was a child, I had a dog.
The way she would jump around for her food each morning was something that always made me smile. That... joy... in this animal... It's so strange to see. An animal... That expresses love and affection and playfulness?
An animal.
I think about that and realize that we share this planet with many creatures and critters and pets. We are surrounded by beings of intelligence and affection who aren't human. Aliens, practically. An alien species.
And... it's such.. it was such an honour to take care of Rosie these past three weeks. And... it was so hard to let her go. To watch her leave my home for the last time in the care of strangers.
Thankfully, they seemed like good people. And that is all I could ask and hope for.
But it was difficult at times. I realized that as a single man, I do not have it in me to give a dog the attention it deserves without taking away from my own right to life. To... do the things that I want to do without having the responsibility of an animal on my mind at all times.
I realized that I need a family first before I can adopt a dog. It's too difficult. There are days when I want to be left alone to write or to... do things without interruption, and I... suppose I am... a solitary man. I need that... time alone. And should I have another people in the house who could look after a dog from time to time, to take it out on walks or to play, it would be much easier for me to bear.
Despite my joy in being with Rosie, I.. am somewhat glad that she is gone. I understand that my own life needs to be... accounted for. It needs to be... solidified. Set. Developed.
I...
Sighs.
Thinking about Fola now.. and it's ridiculous. So much pain between the two of us. I don't understand how it is that I keep on... accepting all this pain. It doesn't feel worth it. She... makes me feel less of who I am. I haven't written as much as I used to since I met her. I feel like.. my "gift" from God is... placed under a blurred thumb... Like... this hidden thing that I can't identify or know what to do with.
I told Fola I would try at writing a short story. It's a fairy tale, a fable, that I've called The Wizard in the Tower, and I've done a lot of research into the period where its set. Medieval Spain. And... I have such grand ambitions for it. It would tell the story of a young girl who meets an older man (the wizard) and then learns about love and magic. I understood that there are parallels here... between myself and the Wizard, and the village girl and Fola.
And.. I can't seem to be able to write this story. I don't know where it should go or what I should say. I understand the beginning... the end... but the in-between...
I don't know. I feel blocked. Haven't written fiction in so long that I think I've forgotten how.
And... this should be easy for me. Yet.. the muse refuses to visit me.
... I don't know what my gift is supposed to be or how I can... utilize it for the betterment of myself and others.
Maybe it's not writing. Maybe its something else.
Maybe it is writing. Maybe I need to push.
Maybe... So much uncertainty.
Don't have a job. Can't trust the woman who supposedly loves me. I can go on but I won't. I...
I feel like there is such darkness out there and I can... help shine a light into it. For others. For myself.
For Fola.
And... though I believe that love can transform and conquer all, it sometimes feels futile. I have.. given her everything of me. And... it seems like this constant erosion...
It seems like... she loves me more for my potential than for who I actually am.
And perhaps... who I actually am... is not worth fighting for.
Dark thoughts.. troubled ones... I admit... but ones that I refuse to turn my head away from and pretend away.
I accept them.
And I desire to make something of myself.
All those years.. .all those blog entries... and it lead to this. This... impotent and dormant fear and contempt and sadness and blame...
I've... thought about who I was growing up. Didn't think that I did anything worth the negativity that has seemed to attach itself to me. I wasn't... dark... I didn't... hate others...
I see pictures of myself as a child and I wonder how I went from there to here.
And... the struggles I've been through and still am.
I'm not sure what else to say with all this...
I need to get back into writing again. It... liberates me... when I put my thoughts into words. Although now, I am feeling this wall... before me... that makes me want to stop writing. Like, this... barrier... that I don't want to go through.
There is a fear that... a fear of something, anyways.
I don't know.
I am sad...
I am... lost...
I...
I am moving forward. No matter what. With each rising of the dawn I am given another opportunity to do so.
And writing this post is one way of doing that.
I cannot help but think that these are important words. Perhaps not for myself, but for others.
Who they might be, I do not know. But perhaps these words will shed some light. Or inspire... Or move...
Move...
One domino tipping over the next.
Perhaps that is all I am to be.
And last night... I affirmed in my prayers that I am willing to become an instrument of a higher power that is interested in making the world into a better place than it is.
A power that will look out for me...
And...
I hope these prayers get answered.
I've seen enough of the hidden hand of God to know it exists.
I just don't understand the mechanism of it all. I do not want to be the one who falls so that others can rise.
Even if it is part of the desired outcome.
I have suffered enough. Enough confusion. Enough lies. Enough darkness. Enough.
Enough.
And...
Well...
Guess there's...
Guess it's a waiting game.
So be it.
