PastPoop

6/12/2003-Defeatism-The Real Chicken Soup for the Soul

I've been dancing around this subject for a while, and now I believe that it's high time I took the loaded gun that is GruntPlop and blow the contents of my brain out all over this webpage.

I've never been a person that gives up easily, if at all. So when a challenge has been issued, I will fight till my very last breath of air. Sometimes this is beneficial. Many a time I have crawled out of a gutter that I was left for dead in because I refused to give up. I have also driven myself to the edge of insanity for basically trying to squeeze blood out of a turnip.

These past few months I've been fighting a battle, and I didn't realize who I was fighting. I thought I was fighting for the heart of a certain girl, but in reality I was fighting with myself. When I realized this, I knew that there was only one way to win.

I had to lose.

I had to lose to myself in order for me to win, and I have to admit in a way it's soothing.

I'd equate it to being burned alive, once you get past the pain it's nothing but warmth and the release of your flesh as it is consumed and turned into cinder. A fire fueled by all your passions, hopes, and desires for yourself and the one you love. As you let all of it go, you watch in awe at its majesty.

In the book of my life I'm sure this event will be marked in red ink like the day my dog Dusty died. She was an old dog, and I was worried that I didn't love her. It pained me that I seemed to be indifferent toward her existance. One morning I came outside and I saw her lying on the ground. She had another stroke and couldn't get up.

On the trip to the vet's office she died in my arms. Like an old clock, she slowly wound down, finnaly exhaling in a relaxing sigh. The life in her eyes had faded; she was gone.

I cried.

It took her death for me to realize how much I loved that goofy dog. It was also comforting to know that she died happy. She was off that gawddamned chain she hated, and hopefully being with me when she passed brought her some joy.

So like a plane plummeting from the sky, I await the final crash. I now understand why 90% of the songs out there are about love. Hopefully a part of me can stand back and watch the flames, admire the impact crater, and most importanly walk away.

She was everything to me, but I don't know if I was anything to her. The only thing that I regret was the fact that I never told her. We have one last dinner ahead of us. I've made the arrangements with her, and hopefully I can write a beautiful epitaph for the love that I held for her.

-BarnyardMessiah

P.S. Claudio Acuña, you're still an Asshole.