“The next time I feel the urge to criticize I will ask myself two questions: given the same circumstances and no hindsight would I have done better, and who asked me for my opinion in the first place?”—The Zen Humanist (via rainydaysandblankets)
Sometimes I’ll buy an album thinking I will listen to all 14 songs equally and consistently. Instead I find myself completely hooked on 2 or 3 songs that I listen to over and over again, ultimately (though unintentionally) ignoring the rest of the tracks. I think sometimes I treat people the same way.
I can’t tell you how many times my stomach dropped today my bones and insides have never been so bitter. I am ashamed at how fucking selfish I am being. I wonder what it feels like to decay but I look around and I think there are some people who already have a good idea. I’m always sorry for things I didn’t do. I can’t picture my life as an adult. I don’t know how I feel about that.
I just wanted to share this. I’m fostering a dog that’s up for adoption at the shelter I work at. She’s an eight year old German Shepherd and she was pulled out of animal control in Ft. Stewart, and all I know is her owner was deployed in the military and she’s been very, very depressed at the shelter. So my dad and I picked her up today. Her nails hadn’t been cut, she hadn’t been bathed in god knows how long, she hasn’t been eating due to her depression and she was covered in fleas. I spent my entire day bathing her and grooming her and medicating her and just getting her used to this new place (She looks almost good as new, though the fleas are not completely gone)..
So she came to the shelter with the name Sheba. After a while, I realized she wasn’t responding to the name, even after we bonded for a bit and she became more comfortable. For the hell of it, we tried a bunch of different names to see what she would do. After a few minutes, there was still no response from her, not even a twitch. My dad said “Bella” and she quickly looked right up at us. “Bella? Is that your name?” She starts whimpering, crying, licking our hands and faces, as if she hadn’t heard that name in ages. I couldn’t help but feel sad because this poor girl has been in a home with a family all her life and suddenly they’re gone and she doesn’t understand what the fuck has happened. She still won’t eat. Anyway she’s sleeping at my feet right now as I type this. She is the sweetest dog and deserves a damn good home, even if it ends up not being mine. Still, I’m glad we took her in. I don’t give a shit about the dog hair and flea dirt and drool. It’s worth it in the long run.