Today is the parade of The Mystic Krewe of Barkus (a canine play on Bacchus, the Roman god of wine & intoxication)- a parade solely for dogs and their companions, which parades through the French Quarter.

I celebrate in my own way before it, drinking wine, caressing her teeth that hang around my neck, going through the pictures I have of her, and wishing I had taken thousands more. Not bothering to wipe away the tears as they fall. There are too many. I drink some of them as they fall into my glass.

Alone in my room but not wanting to be, though it is probably better this way. There’s nothing that anyone can do to make it better. They would just be uncomfortable, watching my face contort with sorrow.

Bean would have loved this parade. We would have walked in it together.

The best dawwgy, and the best friend I have ever had, in the whole wide world, ever.


Nothing else in my life has ever hurt this much for so long. I try to console myself, try to make it just a little bit better by telling myself that she’s still with me, and I know she is – but fuck, I mis her face, the joy she brought, the way just simply having her here beside me made the hardest times a bit more bearable.

enough. enough for here. I don’t want to be this alone.

I find it tragically humorous, in ways. I’m cursed with diseases which can’t find a way to kill me but keep me seperated from everyone I love enough to get that close to, the dearest things in my life seem to always go away, but my heart is strong enough to take it.

It should be, I guess.

As it watched the one who created it walk away, it turned to scar tissue. They’ll always walk away.

enough. fuck you.


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