25-7 / Squirrel & Dog

Someone said that we were one of the last classes to graduate from the Erwin center.

After all the UT basketball games (during one I fell asleep halfway through), the circus that never failed to make me cry (clowns, no) and being onstage for a Pink Floyd concert, it makes sense I feel done with the place. Yet, there was a last thing I needed this building for. Of all my bad moods I’ve had in my lifetime, this one was a stand out. No, there was no actual real reason I was upset, or should have been. So, I was upset about everything and therefor, graduation sucked. I faked the smiles when friends and family congratulated me after. They didn’t understand, “Why is Jamie, like, pissed off? Shouldn’t she be happy? After just getting her diploma?” Yes, I should’ve been delighted. Now that I think about it though, I could have just been reacting to the future, which at the time there was no logical explanation for. The glare I gave everyone did not make sense. We ate dinner after the ceremony was over, which started out pretty sullen, everyone tip toeing around which questions to ask, which things to say, if anything.

I told my mom through text that my period was the culprit. She almost bought it.

Not really. The next week was worse. Every waking minute, there was another question landing on my shoulder. “Are you depressed again? You’re depressed, I’m making an appointment with the psych. Why don’t you go hang out with your friends. Why won’t you talk to me? Hello?” She told my dad and in a day the whole thing had escalated to all three of us, sitting on the couch, getting instructions from my dad to write a letter to everyone that knew me why I’d done it, why I had gone through with killing myself.

At this point, both of them were convinced I was suicidal again and were seriously considering putting me in a treatment center. Had I just smiled through it all. Had I just kept up the lie that I was happy, the war that the truth brought out could have been left alone.

Maybe it was because my parents were convinced I was suicidal again, maybe it was because I was no longer required to attend emotional and mental hell. Or maybe it was because I was tired of always backing down to obideince. Always the dog on the leash, calmly following it’s owner. And thirteen days into technical adulthood, while I was on a night run as said metaphorical dog, I saw a squirrel. Now usually I don’t chase after squirrels, right, like, they aren’t even interesting. They just sit in trees and jump around in the grass. The squirrel was just sitting there, on this wide bridge on the trail. I thought to myself, “Squirrel? Nah, let’s not.” But then, I saw the squirrel had a camera with it and started taking pictures of the sky. This is not when I lost my shit. This was only when I became slightly more interested.

I thought “Squirrels don’t take pictures, that’s ridiciculous.” But the squirrel continued to take pictures, and I continued to watch. Hmm. Maybe just, approach the squirrel, ask it why it’s taking pictures and then walk away and forget all about it. Five minutes later, I learned the squirrel was from El Aye, wherever that is. A musician. I didn’t want to guess on the squirrels age and offend it, so I just kept asking questions. Soon it was dark and I remembered my owners would probably be worried if I didn’t return home soon. Squirrel and I parted and he told me which tree he stayed in. I guessed he was offering to hang out at this tree sometime. Sounded fun. I told my owners about the squirrel the next day. They thought it was funny I was friends with a squirrel. It didn’t make sense to them.

I didn’t see anything wrong with it though, friendly squirrel, myself, a friendly dog,

what could go wrong? Almost everything.