I hate birthdays. It reminds me of how older I am again in age, but no so much in person. Specially to this one yet another birthday, I feel even worse. Why should we aged anyway? Supposedly I’ve becoming more to even reach another additional numbers to my years. But I haven’t. A week ago I even lost more. And that’s my beloved dog. My soul, my sanity, my unconditional love, my therapeutic healer, gone forever.
One thing for sure I know to this birthday is that I’ve becoming even bitter. Human fails me, but yet again, I fail me. I even failed my dog.
I failed on my dog since I no longer fight for him, and he knew that. Since we move in to our new home I’ve becoming distant. I confide to this new surrounding, which separate us further, and as life becomes busier I forgot. I forgot that he needs my love, my affection, my touch, my time. All in those 7 months I failed him, abandoning him, that’s why God took him away so suddenly. Cos I don’t deserve him anymore. I only gave him so little while he gave me everything. A foolish, selfish human being that I am.
As with life, by him being gone, I give up. I no longer wanting to pretend to become a better person. Cos I’m not. Not progressing. Life had showed that continuously.
I still have my 2 other dogs and each day I got scared, scared that maybe today, tomorrow, a week later, sooner or on a very unexpected time they’ll be gone too. Because of me too. A failed caretaker.
So what’s with this aging anyway? Birthday? Yep, it’s even sucker than the last time. My husband chose to go to his-not so close-friend’s birthday rather than to celebrate mine. And nobody said a happy birthday to me either. But then again, as my husband said “what to celebrate? you already old anyway..” it’s true. Nobody would care about a person so selfish like I am anyway. I don’t care about anything, anyone, even myself, so why would anyone care?
It’s funny how I thought by being a positive me like I did a few years back would make my life better. It’s not. Well, to the people around me it is, even to my husband. He’s becoming a better a person. A good husband. But not me. I’m still me, a loser. Can’t get rid that off no matter how hard I deny that. Back again, reality proof so. The loser losing her beloved dog. Well, I guess this year, hit strike from my birthday, I’m gonna lose even more. Deep in my heart I know I will, so it’s best for me to be prepared. To lose some more.
Welcoming lose now, with the grief, the slit, the bitterness and the death to my soul. Bye me, this life is not for you.