And I've lost who I am
and I can't understand
Why my heart is so broken

*

Well.. to sum up my day i'd have to say I feel like sh*t. Pardon the expression but there's really no other way to describe it, in fact that doesn't even comes close to it. Why do i feel this way you ask? It's a long complicated story that pretty much goes from bad to worse. It's not something that i'm unfamiliar with, though maybe that's why it still stings like a raw, open wound that you accidently rubbed hand sanitizer into.

I'll give a brief run-down of what happened though. Basically, the dog that was staying at our house to have puppies had them today. Good new right? Well, only if they were all healthy.. and alive. The first coming out got stuck so we had to rush to the vet so that he could get pulled out. I've never had one where it came out backwards before, so i didn't know how to pull him out safely. Maybe if I did he would have survived.

After he got pulled out, my mom rubbed him for a good thirty minutes, or maybe it was an hour, you tend to lose all sense of time in a situation like that. Then I took over, quite frankly because I felt useless standing there doing nothing. Well we made some progress, he had a faint heartbeat but no breathing, still it was amazing how many can come back when they should be dead. I guess that was the thought that kept me going.

For the next two hours, or longer, I rubbed him nonstop. He got two shots of (something that I can't spell or pronounce), he got oxygen, and he was rubbed until he was dry, and we got no further than the faint heartbeat. Then, eventually, there was no heartbeat...

Even then, I didn't stop. Afterall, if it was beating a minute ago than he could still be revived right? No... unfortunately not every time, and not this time. I knew he was gone, I knew he wasn't going to make it from the start, but I still kept trying. I even put him in my shirt next to my chest, a last stitch effort to warm him. Then, when i finally accepted that he was gone, I kept him under my shirt, just stroking the bulge that he made from beneath the cotton. I almost cried at that point, I came very close, but I didn't want my parents to see. I cried the last time one died (though that time his mom laid on him when he was about a week and a half old and i'd grown attached).

For some reason, it seems that with each death that I experience, i get better at dealing controlling my grief. There was a time that I thought that i was getting used to the pain, but you never get used to the pain. I also thought that maybe I was getting stronger, but then something like this happens and I realize that I'm just as weak as everyone else. I also thought that I was just without feelings, as there were times whe I should have cried but didn't shed a tear, but then it just comes back to haunt me later. Death is hard everytime, but I guess I just get better at holding it back and releasing it later.

Music helps, it's weird how something as simple as a song can help all sorts of pain. I've been listening to this song (shattered by trading yesterday) several times in a row since i got home. If you haven't heard it, or even heard of it, than i feel sorry for you. Here, go to this like and those feelings will go away, thank you. [link] I'll probably make a piece inspired by this song soon, but i don't have the energy right now, maybe later. Patience <3


I'm out, peace ~*

*

All is lost but hope remains and this war's not over
There's a light, there's a sun
taking all these shattered ones
To the place we belong
and his love will conquer all