rs-forever's Diaryland Diary


I stopped having a heart

Somedays I need a quiet space to write. To think clearly. To remember. My mind is a haze. I work too hard. I have no room for nostalgia. This is not me.

Kitty darted out of the house today when I was putting out some trash. I panicked. I was afraid something bad was going to happen. That he was going to dart across the street and get run over. That he would run off into the woods and be gone forever. I followed him quietly around the house, waiting to pounce on him. Then when I did pounce on him, I startled him with my footsteps and he started to run. I tried to hold him, and could only grab his fur. It hurt him, he writhed in pain, and tried frantically to get away from me. I still tried to hold on to him, ignoring his pain. He did get away. I did manage to pick him up eventually.

But I felt something. I felt sorry for Kitty. Sorry that I had caused him pain. Felt sorry for an animal. It has been so long since I felt that way. I had forgotten what it feels like.

I used to be a good kid. Always cared for all the animals around me. Dogs, cats, crows, pigeons, sparrows. EVEN ants. I remember some ants I found while visiting my grandparents once. They were curious little things. They had wings. But they couldn't fly... so many of them, lying half dead, helplessly by the gate in the scalding summer heat. I picked them, one by one, put them on a toy car belonging to one of my cousins, and ran around the yard thinking, I am helping them... I am helping them fly!

I remember walking to the beach one summer morning, with my brother and sister, and some other kids from the building. The beach had hundreds of puffer fish lying in the sand. Fins helplessly moving. Stranded. Stuck in the sand with the water so close. I remember running from one fish to another, grabbing it by the tail, flinging it into the ocean.

A childs brain is stupid. You think just because you put the ants on a toy car and run around with them, they might start to fly, just because you threw half dead fish into the ocean, you gave them a chance to live. I would tell the child, don't bother.. they are as good as dead! You cannot save them all. That child would hate me. The six year old me would hate the 32 year old me. When did this happen? When did I stop having a heart?

6:47 p.m. - 2015-11-20


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