Must Hate Dogs

I grew up obsessed with dogs. Wanted a dog for years. Eventually, my folks caved and I got a dog. And I adored him to the bitter end.

The ex loved dogs. Absolutely loved them.

And now, because everything remotely attached to her is impossibly sullied... every dog I see is an enemy. Every dog—every breed—is a cruel, panting reminder. And I hate them.

I do not want this...

Christ, when does this stop? When do I stop hating myself for this fucking thing? Something ends, you move on. You live your life. You meet someone new. You don't meet someone new. The world doesn't stop.

Yet here I am. Pinned to the floor.

During this ruined time, I've met a number of people dealing with similar grief/loss. I've seen things in these people that I've found repellent. Things I don't want to be.

And still, here we are. Writhing.

I want this to end more than anything.