Half Past Two

This morning I woke up. Again. As I always do. Eventually. Morning is a relative term as far as I’m concerned. Today, morning was around noon. And the first conscious thought I had that didn’t involve replaying the sporadic memories of a dream where I over-processed my hair and was now removing chunk after chunk, was wondering how long it would take to bleed out if I only cut through one of my wrists. This is a rather normal evolution I endure most “mornings”. Most people wouldn’t say that was normal. Most people would probably say normal involved something a little different. They might say normal was a full time job, a significant other, a family and a mortgage. Maybe a plan to go on vacation, a savings account and friends with similar interests.

Normal can be defined by multiple things, however, most people would agree, that normal is nothing more than a routine.

Outline of morning routine:

Wake up

Piss

Lean over and look into the mirror whilst pissing, and feel somewhat relieved that I in fact did not pull chunk after chunk of my hair out.

Give snuggles to Cassie

Remind her that she is my absolute everything and the main reason I don’t follow through with cutting just one of my wrists.

Find phone.

Phone is dead.

Lucky phone.

Try to remember any more of my dream.

Remind self about keeping iPad by bed so when i wake up I can type what I remember before I forget.

I’ll probably forget again.

Take Suboxone.

Never forget Suboxone.

Smoke drugs.

Again

Again

Again…

You get the picture. It continues on and on, day after day, a slight change here or there but nothing flashy, or unexpected. And for a person in my position with my “opportunities” as some would say, I’m just wasting every day away. Because why is someone who is in there mid thirties still single? And unemployed? Why does said person have no kids, no savings, still renting a house from their parents and unable to recall the last time taking a vacation from anything besides Rehab last year.

I pet Cass’s sweet face. She smiles. She’s been having some trouble getting up on the bed lately. But all things considered, for almost 12 years old she is doing pretty well. I can still remember the day I picked her up. I messaged the lady from Craigslist and walked about a mile and a half from my house through downtown. “I’m in a purple hoodie”, she said. Purple is my favorite color. I walked into the parking lot and there she was with this beautiful Rhodesian mix puppy. My eyes got big. I walked faster. I waived and smiled. She was preoccupied with her phone. I introduced myself and she started going on and on about something regarding how she thought that the dog was going to be smaller or some shit, I wasn’t really paying attention. I was kneeled down and attempting to make friends with this puppy. She was shy/excited/nervous/happy. I was the same. Then, without warning, she plops her two front paws up on my shoulders, puts her nose two millimeters from mine and stares directly at me before giving one, apprehensive lick.

* * * I melt. * * *

The lady was still rambling on, I tuned in somewhere around her saying that if I don’t take her, she’s going to take her to the pound. The animal shelters in the D.C. tri-state area are, to say the very least, at full occupancy. Mostly from people bringing their litters of unwanted kittens because they somehow forgot again this year to get their animals fixed and be a responsible pet owner.

*Side note - I fully support that it should be a criminal offense to not have your animals spayed or neutered, especially in such a densely populated area like the District, because in my head, murder is murder, human or not. And if you are going to bring the babies of your pet to a shelter because “oops I forgot to fix them”, knowing their chance of survival and finding a permanent home is less than winning the powerball, then you should be the one behind bars, not the animals. But I digress…

She was asking for sixty dollars for a “rehoming fee”. A small price to pay for love. She didn’t have a leash for her. And I just gave her all my money. I left my wallet at home. We had a mile and a half walk through the city. Six lane roads and shopping strips. Restaurants with outside seating. And people. Lots of people. This was going to be an interesting trek.

If this story is something you would like to see continued, please like/subscribe/comment/tip for part 2. Thank you =)

S.