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3:37 AM - Wednesday, Feb. 02, 2005
At least it's not about taxes.
I can't sleep. Probably because I've spent the last 4 and a half days sleeping? Whatever it is I contacted from my dear beloved family members really tuckered me out and killed me physically. To put it in a creative way (stolen from Davy's journal entry):

The Good: I was able to stay home and have a little vacation from work, even if I did spend the majority of it asleep.

The Bad: I missed out on two full days of paid workdays, and one of them was pay day.

The Ugly: Even though I was obviously extremely sick, I will experience the wrath of hell through the negative behavior of my fucking co-workers.

Oh joy. In 4 or 5 hours, I'm going to get up and force myself into work just so I can spend a good 8-9 hours being bullied mentally by some idiots. Do the benefits of being able to take advantage of the current system really measure higher than the onslaught of abuse the threatened morons push upon my work life? I really need to get more of a life so I can spend less time analyzing the people I work with and the place I hate.

I need to find out when this big bonus is coming out so I can definitely see how much time I can take off to run away to Europe for a month. Fuck my work place. Fuck my co-workers. Fuck my job.

I need to change my attitude to: Fuck off! rather than: Piss on me!

Anyhow, my mother came by yesterday with the wooden box that contains my beloved pet Ashley. I've placed it on an end table in my living room. It's not there to remind me of my loss or to remind me that life is way to short. I put her there because she meant that much to me, and I totally plan on being buried with her when I die.

Speaking of my own death, I've noticed that ever since before Christmas I've been trying to correct my past wrongs with people from my past. Am I getting ready to die? I mean, with Ashley... I would wake up and look at her and think... "I need to love my kitty. I don't get to spend enough time with her." And this was all in the final weeks of her life. It's almost as if I sensed she was going to leave me. And now I wonder if I sense I'm going to be leaving everybody. Or maybe I'm just weird thinking things like that.

I want to get a new pet. I'm too much of an animal lover not to get one. I'm just hesitant. First of all, how can I adopt another animal at this particular moment in time? I don't want it to feel as if I'm replacing the void that Ashley left behind in my life. Not only that but I think I fear growing attached to another living creature. All this emotional pain I experience when a death occurs gets to me. I used to be strong about it, but the more often it happened the weaker I became. Now, instead of being able to just cry, I bawl. I mean my body freaks out and I just bawl my eyes out. I experience the biggest adrenaline rush imaginable, and I can't touch or feel the dead person or animal as if the death is contagious.

The only dead body I've touched was my Grandpa's. Ashley and my Grandma hadn't been dead that long when I was touching theirs. I freaked out on Ashley. I shook her and prodded her dead body as if that would jar her awake. Then, when it truly sunk in that she was gone I couldn't touch her. Now I wish I had been able to kiss her goodbye.

When my grandma died, I was in the room with her. I was holding her hand and watched the life leave her eyes. One minute you see this sparkle and depth in a person's eyes, and the next you see it cloud over until the eyes have gone vacant. I can't explain it completely but you can always distinguish between the living and the dead through their eyes. The only way I can explain it is that the sparkle is gone.

When my Grandpa died, I wasn't with him. I saw him over spring break and didn't get to say goodbye to him because I had the stomach flu on the way home. Not only that but I've always had a terrible time saying goodbye to him. I'd become a crying basketcase of emotions. So when he did die, the last time I had seen him was as he was sick with the flu and I was contacting it from him. And when I saw him next was when they had his casket on display at the funeral home. It was the night of the rosary, and I broke down when I saw him. His eyes were closed, which is probably what made it easier for me to lean over his casket and kiss him goodbye. I don't know. I'd like to think that's what made it easier to be able to kiss him goodbye over the others, but sometimes I wonder if it's because even in death my Grandpa couldn't scare me. Not that my Grandma and Ashley scared me when they were gone. It was never the person I was scared of, but the dead body.

At least I think that's what it was. I don't know.

Anyhow, I should quit writing. It's now 4 AM. Even if I never get back to sleep, I should at least try.

 

 

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