Like a broken record

fuzzbutt died on Sunday, its death affected me more than other past hamsters i ever kept.

I don’t have the exact description put into words,but i feel a different connection with this furball.

Home’s been lonely without its presence, too quiet that i am not quite use to, miss the times when i would disturb it from its sleep & tickle its fat tummy.

God, how much i miss my little companion.

Those late nights when i can’t sleep, those early mornings when i am up for school it will be awake to make me feel less afraid.

Things are not getting better, not that much. When i was asked how much i have recovered, i gave an answer that will satisfy them.

I guessed it was the answer that both the doc & Mom needed, she needs the assurance more than anyone, I know it’s unfair and bad to lie but i feel guilty.

I know she’s super duper worried about me & there’s little i can do to actually make things go back to normal.

Because i don’t feel normal. I don’t ever think there will be me going back to normal as before.

It’s different. I feel only a little bit of improvement, but emotions wise it s barely here nor there, i don’t know. Still figuring the way out of the maze at the same time,
I feel i am falling deeper. It’s hazy to tell.

All those fears all those worries, the weight on my shoulders seems to get heavier each passing week.

It haunts me day and night.

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