It's a night like any other

not warm, not cool

can never get the pillow just right

too hot with a blanket

too cold without

a soul itching to get out of it's skin

and the mind starts in

with the remember when's

remember when she made a joke about you wanting to die

remember when she took the bullies side

remember when you would scream into the mattress

remember letting the blood run down your arm

remember that noise you made

when you thought there was no air left in you

tomorrow will be the same you know

and the day after

and the day after

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

I screamed into my empty bedroom

And it wasn't a saint that came to me

It wasn't Jesus

It was a cloaked figure with yellow eyes

calling himself Abaddon

"I'm the ruler of hell." He said.

"Yet you seem to be giving me a run for my money."

I had no fear of him

and it took him standing there in front of me to realize why

hell hath no fury

like the fury I have for myself

So go ahead, give me hell

It's like a chunk of you breaks off and falls away. And it's good, you know that it's a good thing. But fuck does it hurt. And there's that part of you now that's exposed. Not to the world, not to some external source but to your own awareness. You come to this realization that parts of your life are not what you thought they were. In some ways you always knew this but it was like putting together a puzzle from a blurred image. In ways it's exciting, you know that this understanding will lead you to a new place. And in ways it's just fucking heartbreaking. And part of you knows that if you hadn't quite fit the puzzle together a part of you would be relieved but now that you've put it together you can't un-see it, you can't un-comprehend it. I guess that's the pain in growth. I am looking forward to nights not spent staying up smoking just trying to figure it out though.

Describe my what to you? A little personal for a first date, don't you think? I mean seriously, what's your height and weight? How about I bear my soul to you, slam it down on this table, let you meander through it, here's a few pages of my journal when you get to it.

What do you mean I started this? This isn't my conversation.

Oh, my writing, describe my writing is what you're saying.

Well it's a little all over the place if I'm being honest. It's a lot like late night conversations with strangers who don't have any faces.

"Check please."

Empathy is a bitch, everyone looks to you like you're their therapist. You're there to decipher their own feelings and play them back to them in a way they can digest. And the hate that spills out from them, the rage, the desperation you take it all in. It's not yours to feel but someone has to. So much has happened to them that it blinds you from feeling your own pain. It's hard to set boundaries when you're a life boat in a sea of drowning people. And they'll cross what lines exist but they're pushing just to see if you push back and so you refrain. Because you know they're looking for the unconditional love they never received as children. It's the least you can do then isn't it, to let them cross an invisible line? After all she's the product of a narcissistic mother that gave everyone else attention but denied her. And it wasn't for lack of trying. Modern-day slavery at it's finest. Now she looks for a similar relationship-a partner that's impossible to please yet somehow she can. But it doesn't exist. It's a lock that was built without a key that fits. Continuously seeking that validation but only from those who don't give it. And so you let her cross the line. You'll make yourself smaller so she can feel like she also shines because maybe that's all she needs this time. But it's never all they need. And slowly you turn it off. They keep coming to you, crossing lines then asking for help and you go through the motions but if you're honest with yourself you no longer give a fuck. So you distance yourself, it's the only option you have left. You know there is no come to Jesus talk that's going to turn this around. And sometimes you lay awake and think and you wonder who you would be if you were them. You find yourself missing their company because now you're feeling your own pain. And then you realize you're no lifeboat at all, just another sinking ship that's ignoring all the holes they need to fix.

My friend comes to pick me up for school, it's not summer and it's Montana so it's dark outside. She has a friend with her, I sit in the back. We go to the gas station by my house and when we leave we're going in the opposite direction of school. We're driving down a hill by my parents house, brickyard hill to be exact, and the headlights go out. My eyes try to focus on the darkness past the windshield. The headlights come back on. Standing, right in front of the car, is a baby and it's head is cocked to the side. The car swerves violently and we start rolling over the side of the hill. We're going to die, I know we're going to die and all I can think is that baby is too young to stand on its own.

That'd make you feel good wouldn't it? Seeing me lose control. Then you could play the victim but this isn't a game I'm willing to throw. You think you're so fucking smart, that you've got me backed into a corner. I built this fucking house. I'll burn it to the ground before you're part owner. You mistake my stillness for weakness, thinking I've lost my edge. But just because a monster is quiet doesn't mean it's dead. You provoke as if you're a challenge but the power has always been imbalanced. I could have ended you with a few words, pointed out some harsh truths then stood back and watched you swing from that noose. But this monster doesn't stir that easily, especially not for someone so measly.

Why? Why keep going? I've asked myself that countless times. I mean after all, what is the point? I still don't know. And I don't know that I ever will, even after this. And I'm okay with that. Most days. And other times it's like a loose screw, bouncing around in my brain, just looking for a fucking hole that fits. Anything. Anything close to concrete that makes any kind of sense. And it bounces. And it bounces. Hits. And it sticks. Tries to settle in. And then the thread slips. It goes cock-eyed. Gets plucked out. Starts bouncing all over again. Because nothing quite seems to fit. And I can't help but wonder if it isn't all bullshit. But the sky was pretty tonight. And my dogs expect food in the morning. Maybe I can piss someone off tomorrow. There's always reasons to keep going.

I've had a few dogs in my life and I've always felt that they were sent to me one way or another. This is going to sound a little crazy but, we're all a little mad here, right? So here goes.

The first dog that I had that was my dog, not a family dog but MY dog, was my Loca Mocha. I was working a grave yard shift at a truck stop, I had just gotten a DUI at 19 and knew that I needed to make some changes. I went out front to smoke and ponder life and one of the most beautiful dogs I've ever seen came bounding over. She looked like a german shepherd, had the markings of german shepherd but long, super soft hair. A guy was walking up to the doors and I figured she must be his. "Beautiful dog." I said to him. "Oh, she's not mine." He replied. I followed him into the store as I was the only cashier on duty.

I kept an eye on the dog and noticed that she didn't leave with anyone. I took her out some food and water and decided that once my shift was over, if she was still there she would be coming home with me. She had a collar on with a tag and a phone number. I had tried calling and had given the number to my brother to try as well. He finally got ahold of the person and she told him that it wasn't her dog, that her dog had died and someone had stolen the collar off of her dog and put it on this one. (Do you believe it? We didn't.) It was good news to me, after all I didn't want her to have a home, I wanted to be her home.

My shift ended and we loaded her up into my mom's car and home she came. We found out shortly later that she was pregnant and she was an amazing mom to the 9 pups that she had, oh how I wish I would've kept one but we found them all good homes. Fast forward a year and I'm living with a friend, her dog and mine are best of buds.

I came home one night from going out, Loca jumped all over me as she always did, I let them both outside, went back to let them in a few minutes later and Loca was lying on the ground, she had passed away. I thought someone did something to her and a rage came over me that I had never before experienced. I took her to the vet and got an autopsy done (yes, they'll do autopsies on your dog) the vet explained that the walls of her heart had thickened over time and that they don't act any differently until finally the chamber of their heart closes off completely and they just pass. He had a dog with the same thing happen, said it was jumping through a field, happy as could be and then just dropped and was gone. I was utterly heart broken. A few days after burying her I was visiting at my parents house and my mom said to come look out the window at this dog.

She was gorgeous, a cinnamon colored husky with pale blue eyes. I'd always wanted a husky. My mom left to go shopping and the dog was still hanging around. I asked my Dad if we could bring it in and hang on to it until we found it's owners. Surely a dog that beautiful had owners. My dad said yes. That husky came right in and hopped up on the couch next to me like she had known me for years. When my mom got home she was not so happy to see the dog in the house and said it would find it's way back home. My mom opened the door and let the husky out onto the front porch. She went out on the porch, sniffed the air, turned around and came right back in the house. She knew where she belonged. I named her Angel Isabel, Izzy for short.

Izzy went everywhere with me, she even went to my nephew's school for show and tell and everywhere we would go people would always say, "What a pretty dog." And she knew it, she loved going on car rides and camping. She had such a personality.

As as I was working at yet another gas station one of my co-workers was talking about a dog they just got from someone and how their nails were super long. Another co-worker was telling her that the dog was old anyways and she should probably just put it down. I couldn't listen to it anymore and told her I would take the dog. I went over to her place and as soon as I walked in this tiny little fluff ball called a shih tzu started jumping up and down. "That's the first time she's acted like that." My co-worker said. That's cause she knew, she knew I was there for her. Her name was Gracie and she was the smallest dog I've ever had and the oldest, she was 18 when I got her and I got the pleasure of being hers for 3 years before she passed.

When I decided to move out on my own it wasn't in the best of neighborhoods. For as dog friendly as my town claims to be landlords would like to disagree. I remember thinking that as much as I loved Izzy I would love to have another dog that was a bit more intimidating. I thought of my brother's black lab that Izzy got along with so well. A few days after that thought occurred a young male black lab showed up at my house. Again I figured this must be someone's dog. I took his picture and put out found ads. My brother said that he would take him and as much as I wanted him I didn't know if I really had the time for him. I told my brother he could take him and that same day the dog's owner called. My brother dropped him off to his owners and I figured that was that and again, I was a bit heartbroken. A few months later I went to let Izzy in from outside and a familiar visitor was in the yard.

This time I decided that I would wait and watch for a lost ad for him. I checked facebook and craigslist daily, I called the animal shelters, no one was looking for him. That, along with there being the end of a zip tie on his collar told me all I needed to know. He was meant to be with me. And that's how I got Loki. He and Izzy were thick as thieves. I lost her a few years back from diabetes but she got to see the new house and I don't know why but that was so important to me that she got to be here with me. She came through so much with me.

Shortly after she passed one of my childhood friends asked if I could take in their border collie mix because their husband wasn't being very nice to it. I of course said yes and that's how I got Dixie. I've never seen two dogs that get along quite as well as my Loki and Dixie do. And I know one day I'll have to say goodbye and that I'll be heart broken once again. But for the love of dog, I can't say no.

Lately I've been practicing

whispering to the divine

anticipating my desires

will be seen to in due time

I do circles around myself

But it's all in my mind

I see everything that needs done

But nothing is happening in real time

I see the clothes in the dryer

as I stare at the moving screen

I add a spoon to the pile in the sink

The pile I could swear I just cleaned

And quietly I say

"If there's anyone near,

I could use help with the washing

if you'd be quite a dear."

And if no one comes

then it just must not be

that much of a thing to worry about

so let us sit and have some tea