In Memorium

I've reached a stage where I have no opinions or feelings, I've exhausted every ounce. It's one of these times where I start to wonder where everything starts and where it all ends. I guess what I'm trying to say is that, I want to write about love and living, but I haven't truly loved or even remotely lived. That's all there is to write about really. Since, how can you talk about your views on the world when you haven't read all the history books or even begun to understand...simply, why? I have no knowledge of anything in particular. I'm not sure if that realization hurts or not. Right now it's just a fact. How do I know if praying to God will save us all or if global warming will burn me alive? I have no idea. I'm sick of trying to find ways to explain things! They just are. We are so entirely lost, it's sort of humorous in a way. Sad in another. But, then again how do you know that you are lost if you don' t know where you should be? See... more fucking questions. My head is going to explode. I'm finding it an effort to type this out, but I need to because I haven't written anything since my mice died. It's so plain written up there on the screen, but the pain was more than I expected when I saw them lying in their cage. It wasn't normal or as I had hoped that they would have passed on. They were stiff and they weren't together. At opposite ends I believe. I couldn't move for a little while, I had my back to the cage for a good hour and a half. Shit, I must have looked like Lady Macbeth wringing her hands muttering,"Out damned spot." I have to laugh at myself or I would start to remember the feeling of finding my friends dead from heat exhaustion after leaving them to go to my cottage. I never even thought about them as I got sunburned and watched my cousin pretend to get drunk off of two coolers. As cliched as it is, I never said good-bye. I just filled their food bowl and left. I held them before I put them in their cardboard coffin. Their eyes were open and I could swear that they were warm (probably from being roasted alive). They could have easy been sleeping. I shook them a little and muttered to them. Shit, it haunts me. I held them and I hated myself for not taking them with me. I have this image of my two mice lying in a cold wet cardboard box, running in circles trying to find a way out of the hole I buried them in. I still do, no matter how many times I fake a smile. I must have looked like a stupid idiot, standing in front of my shitty attempt at a grave, trying to not get eaten alive by mosquitoes and muttering words like "I'm so sorry", "I loved you" and swearing because I could not even think of something memorable to say. I could not even make something to mark their grave. My justification was, "they are just mice." The same justification that I told myself as I cried in the 40 degree weather, sitting on my deck, wringing my hands. I wanted to vomit. I sickened myself. I really did love them. It was the same as finding any other animal dead. Tish, Rainbow, Elmo or even Rocky. Everything has life and that life is eventually taken. It's the same for all living things. It was my dad talking, his voice telling me to stop crying, that he'll get me new ones to replace them, telling me that they are just mice, it's pathetic but true. The same man who told me to stop crying when I was little or told me to toughen up and stop acting like a child. Funny, now it seems that I can't stop. I don't want new mice. They will not replace or patch up this hurt. Albert had a limp, he always ran in circles. Hemingway loved his wheel and hated it when Albert would try and run on it. They used to fight each other, but I would find them cuddling sometimes. I'm crying as I write this, nose running, trying to type correctly through clouded eyes. Desperately trying to tell whoever is reading this that I feel so god damned guilty. True, I didn't actually put them outside, or left them out there for an hour. But, if I had cleaned their cage earlier maybe my dad would not have said that they smelled and put them outside. Maybe I deserve this pain. I got mice so that they would not be fed to a snake, but is roasting alive any better?