No offense to any friends who might read this but I had trouble yesterday finding someone who could shed some light on what I was going through. I came up pretty empty, until I went in the music room. Beethoven was there playing piano. It was Chopin I think. I haven't spoken to him in years, and when I started talking to him again he vented all of his anger at me. But then we started talking again. After talking for a while something made me...


Never mind. It helped me though.

I walked into the cafeteria today and I sat with Marcy, Tricia, and Matt as usual. I was hoping that they would be a source of compassion but they ended up being the opposite. I guess they were too drunk to realize that telling me my dead dog was nothing but lifeless bones and flesh was a bad idea. Anyway, I started zoning out on whatever I could. I started thinking about my lunch. Every day I have peanut butter and jelly. You know if someone is good at making PB & J because the jelly will never drip from the sandwich. I can't do that. I guess I'm not great at a lot of things. I really miss my dog.

It's true. I'm trying not to think about it but I don't know what else to think about. I'm trying to get some advice from my friends but all they seem to be interested in is getting laid, getting high, or getting drunk. I found myself talking with Beethoven at lunch today. He was in the music room. He seems to know what he was talking about but I'm not sure he is willing to continue to talk to me after the last few years. What people did to him, what I did to him was... wrong. When my dog died, I lost the only thing I could be myself around and now I am desperately trying fill that position. Maybe Beethoven will take it. I don't know, maybe.

CB