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Jul. 9th, 2016 11:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thepnutgalleryAs soon as I left my room, I saw Mousey's cage in a wreck on the floor.
Mousey was a feeder mouse and over a year old - I have no idea how old he was when I rescued him from a snake cage. I was prepared for him to die. I'd be sad, but safe in the knowledge that I'd given him the best life any feeder mouse had ever had. That whatever genetic mouse-fears he'd inherited, he'd never need to face them head on. I was not prepared for him to get eaten. I've read a million books where someone searches rubble in increasing desperation for a loved one. I've lost family members and close friends. I've seen a million friends post about loved ones who've died. I've seen a million posts about how horrible the world is when something unconscionable goes viral. For some reason, none of those things impact me much.
I am so angry. I am angry that I didn't think that a predator would climb up my balcony to get to an aging mouse inside a cage. I am livid at a system where something would be so hungry to need to. FURIOUS I didn't investigate immediately. *I am out of my fucking mind* that I didn't save my mouse. That the whole fucking point of rescuing him was that he not face that. I want to scream, and smash things, and kill things, and tear my skin off, and keep smashing things with my own flayed skin.
I posted to FB, because I thought people should know. I was surprised at the reaction. I was expecting to have to delete/kill at least one person who insisted he was "just a mouse." Tim & FHA were both fantastic, of course, but I don't know what to do with any of it. It occurred to me I had rehearsal to learn Thriller. I hate that song and that video, but I will absolutely not let some personal bullshit get in the way of my responsibilities. Burned myself, buzzed my head, stamped down on tears in the shower and headed off.
I think I was also supposed to rehearse Billie Jean, but I didn't realize that until after the first rehearsal was over, and I wanted to be home. Steven Richards came over to try on the Fantastic Four costume. It fits, if only just barely. He fucked me, and waaaaaay overstayed his welcome, but finally left.
I was supposed to go to the Body Language concert with Julian, but thankfully he never called. Tim called to make sure I hadn't cut myself or anything, and suggested I tear my collars, which is the Jewish tradition for grieving parents. I laid on the bed in the living room until it got dark, on the off hand chance he was still there somewhere, hiding.
DILF was happening, but I really really did not feel like being around anyone, so I drank a half bottle of vodka and crashed.
Mousey was a feeder mouse and over a year old - I have no idea how old he was when I rescued him from a snake cage. I was prepared for him to die. I'd be sad, but safe in the knowledge that I'd given him the best life any feeder mouse had ever had. That whatever genetic mouse-fears he'd inherited, he'd never need to face them head on. I was not prepared for him to get eaten. I've read a million books where someone searches rubble in increasing desperation for a loved one. I've lost family members and close friends. I've seen a million friends post about loved ones who've died. I've seen a million posts about how horrible the world is when something unconscionable goes viral. For some reason, none of those things impact me much.
I am so angry. I am angry that I didn't think that a predator would climb up my balcony to get to an aging mouse inside a cage. I am livid at a system where something would be so hungry to need to. FURIOUS I didn't investigate immediately. *I am out of my fucking mind* that I didn't save my mouse. That the whole fucking point of rescuing him was that he not face that. I want to scream, and smash things, and kill things, and tear my skin off, and keep smashing things with my own flayed skin.
I posted to FB, because I thought people should know. I was surprised at the reaction. I was expecting to have to delete/kill at least one person who insisted he was "just a mouse." Tim & FHA were both fantastic, of course, but I don't know what to do with any of it. It occurred to me I had rehearsal to learn Thriller. I hate that song and that video, but I will absolutely not let some personal bullshit get in the way of my responsibilities. Burned myself, buzzed my head, stamped down on tears in the shower and headed off.
I think I was also supposed to rehearse Billie Jean, but I didn't realize that until after the first rehearsal was over, and I wanted to be home. Steven Richards came over to try on the Fantastic Four costume. It fits, if only just barely. He fucked me, and waaaaaay overstayed his welcome, but finally left.
I was supposed to go to the Body Language concert with Julian, but thankfully he never called. Tim called to make sure I hadn't cut myself or anything, and suggested I tear my collars, which is the Jewish tradition for grieving parents. I laid on the bed in the living room until it got dark, on the off hand chance he was still there somewhere, hiding.
DILF was happening, but I really really did not feel like being around anyone, so I drank a half bottle of vodka and crashed.
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Date: 2016-07-12 06:13 am (UTC)And my offer to come hang out stands. We don't need to do anything. I will just be there.