Moving old notebooks around & opened one. I kept this one when I was about twenty, maybe nineteen. I can’t do the math in my head.

An entry from my diary, dated May 4, 2022, 11:55 PM:

”No entries for the past while- I’ve been losing my mind. The thing was already in tatters- now those tatters have been picked up by the wind along with lost balloons, runaway kites, plastic bags, & other garbage.”

”I found a dead dog today. Right by the track. No one was acknowledging it. I thought I was imagining it, because I fear I’ve been imagining things lately- footsteps, whispers, it’s like I’m being haunted. I think the mind is a place and I think it can haunt itself. So the dog. The dog was small, white with spots, with a little red collar. People often describe the dead as sleeping and now I get it. I thought maybe it was asleep. Every single person at the park was ignoring this dog’s existence so completely that I was unsure if it was even there. I stood and watched to see if it really was just asleep, but its little chest wasn’t rising or falling. I called to the dead dog over and over. He didn’t stir. The only movement was the coat of flies he was growing. That’s what alarmed me in the first place, all of those flies, no reaction. So I then determined that the maybe fake maybe real dog was a dead one. I stood there for maybe a little while trying to figure out if this really was hallucination, or if everyone at the park was that callous. It was callousness. Actually, that word doesn’t fit- callouses keep us from harm, they defend. These people weren’t defending themselves from emotion, they didn’t seem to have any at all. (If the dog was actually there, which it was, no one reacted) I think the saddest part maybe the fact that no one cared. How? I don’t get it. How am I the odd one for acknowledging a dead creature. A well taken care of creature. I could tell even in its death. It had a family. They were probably wondering where there little dog was. The world is so bad, so unfair. Did anyone acknowledge the dog as it lay dying? Did it want to be touched, pet one last time? Was he scared? I think so- something about his expression seemed deeply wrong. If he was asleep it was a nightmare, Where was his family? I still don’t know. I was approached by a couple and asked if I was alright which I guess I wasn’t because they could tell something was wrong with me from 30, 40, 50 feet away. I felt like I was going to be sick when you approached. How would I explain the dog if the dog wasn’t there? Well they did see the dog, and I think they thought it was mine. This will sound evil, but it was a relief to know the dog was really there. I know, being glad that there actually is a dead dog- despicable. The dog’s collar had no tags so I tried to call someone to take the dog away. Everyone, unhelpful. The police dept says.. to “dispose of it how [I] saw fit.” They insinuated that I should throw the dog corpse away like garbage… Animal control said they might come to morrow, but probably not… Now I hear thunder and lightning. The dog is getting rained on.At least when he died, he died in a field warmed by the Sun. I hope his soul isn’t experiencing this. I hope it’s not crying out. I wanted to carry it home, bury it. That’s what I’d want someone to do if they found [my dog] dead and alone. Not leave her corpse to become sodden and rot near a foot path. Dad said I did more than enough and to leave it be. I didn’t feel that way. I even tried to find his family to no avail. I cried and cried and cried. The world is so cruel and so terrible. Dogs have no concept of good or evil, they’re just dogs, so they’re absolutely innocent, more than any person. And more than any of those people who ignore his body. Why should the dog die and these people live? It’s not fair! I hate it! It’s not fair!!!”