Cliché, I know. Frankly, this just a emo rant. Love hurts. It can be beautiful and inspiring and breathless. Sure. It can also be ugly, crushing, soul suckling and futile. I’m at another period in my life when love hurts.
I’m passionate about my work. I think they look for self reciating martyrs in the pre-employment Hogan Assessment. My job is actually stagnant and pigeon holing me. My boss is a good person. My boss is a good person. My boss is a good person. No matter how much I say it, I can’t swallow that much koolaid without throwing up. 110 quarters of profits but the Company can’t seem to fund raises.
My cat died this morning. 24 hrs sick, seized in my arms and died. Just like that. Dead. He came to me first in a dream. A grey ghost, meowing impatiently. That was mid week. The next saturday I was at Petsmart and saw him lounging in recesses of a dark cage. He had been returned as unsuitable by the woman who had adopted him. I badgered the cat adoption people and the next day he came home. Now all I can think is fuck! Why didn’t I take him to the ER vet and put it on my credit card? Then I feel terrible because I think, at least I didnt burn another hole in a credit card. Now, he’s another love buried in the ever-growing pet cemetery on my property.
I’m sad and angry and fucking angry and sickly sad to the point I started looking up articles about knowing when it’s time to get professional help. That was last week. Before my cat died. Really ridiculous. Just the fact that I’m looking up the article denotes my knowledge that I need to find someone to talk to before my brain implodes like the formation of a black hole. But, I honestly think that if I told a counselor the bat shit crazy bullshit floating around in my skull it would probably give ‘them’ cause for more than 72 hours. I have a tough time with the angry and sad combo. It makes me feel guilty even when I’ve done nothing. Like feeling angry is some karmic failure. An unforgivable sin. I don’t have the right to be angry, look at all those who have less… Fuck that shit. Oh, you can’t be sad about a cat or your job or your boyfriend … look at those who’ve lost so much more, those who struggle more… gods. I get it. Like I mentioned, guilt, it’s a birthright.
Love hurts. It hurts to lose it. I’ve lost it a lot over the years. Memories of the good things don’t really ease the pain of the loss. Time eases pain. Time. Fuck that shit, too.