Rusty was his name.
My grandfather somehow got him into the car to bring him home.
He had been abandoned.
He had been hurt.
He had been abused.
You could see the fear in his eyes.
He would bark when he felt cornered because he had nowhere left to run.
It took time.
I can’t remember how long it took, but to my young slow days it seems it took years.
He would not eat his food initially with the other dogs.
We had to slowly coach him more and more to come out of his mental torture.
It is now I that am he.
Every day it takes every ounce of strength I have to live to put on the “face” to make it through those 14
I avoid her because I’m hurt, but I know my avoidance is itself is pain
Yet I still walk on eggshells. I don’t want to hurt her any more.
For years I’ve hurt her and yet, I was unaware.
I accepted her silence as contentment and she was hollow inside.
On occasions that I can escape the reality of the daily grind, I drown my emotions in alcohol.
Just to dull the overwhelming sensations of hurt, pain, horror, and sorrow.
I drank waaaay to much while associates were near.
I’ve seen the bottom of a wine bottle or two on the night before my “day” off
What a joke the day off is. There is no such thing in this role
Fate has dealt us both bad hands
Time has not been good to either of us together.
But my heart cannot fathom the hurt that I’ve caused
It causes a feedback loop that I can’t control
…how did it come to this?
…why are my hands bloodied with her blood?
Eight + years….
She’s played the reality of Rusty before we found him, she hid that from me. Why? Am I some tyrant? Am I some monster? Am I some demon?
I do know that most people have a sick narcissist twist of reality of what they see in the mirror that is warped with a defeating nature of self-deprecation.
And now I’m Rusty the dog that I grew up as a kid to know and love. Afraid to trust anyone with me.
That was a great post. Can’t remember exactly when I inked that one. I remember traveling though. I believe I was in Allen. Well here’s the next one that I titled run faster penned in late April or early may.
I know for sure this was done in Allen. I remember the morning I broke down with this one titled the morning mirror.
This one I titled fvck fb. Pretty self explanatory
I have a few more to move over her but I’ll save those for another moment when I want to and need to explore my pain.