on the death of a mouse.

Twist just died in my hand. I cried.
Fucking mouse. I wasn't expecting to fall in love with this little thing and have him just go and die. I wasn't expecting my first sojourn into being responsible for an animal to go this way. I didn't want it to die. I was praying that this stupid little mouse would live and he didn't. I couldn't even care for a mouse properly.
Damn mouse. I hate that I couldn't fix it. I knew he was going to die this morning when I looked at him, so I showed Des and just held him until he did. I wanted to fix him and I couldn't. It's hardly fair that I should be responsible and helpless all at once. One or the other is big enough. Both isn't fair.
I hate that I'm sad. I only had him for two days for crying out loud. It feels somehow illegitimate that I should be sad. People's dogs and cats and rats die that they've had forever. They have a right to be sad. I don't think I do.
But I'm sad anyway and I can't turn it off and feel better by telling myself that it was just a baby mouse, like a hundred thousand other baby mouses. Because he wasn't, he was my baby mouse.

There you go. My first emo post.
To Twist: You tamed me in two days. Cheers.



I'm going to be late for church.