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My Doggone Day

I feel that there is a cancer growing inside me. You know when you have one of those days that you notice a small indent in your skull that you had never felt before. You're feeling guilty about something you did, down on your life, currently thinking that you should be taking more responsibility. There's butterflies in your throat and you have this feeling that you're just going to come down with a terrible sickness, all because karma is biting you in the ass for what you did. Maybe I didn't contribute to society like I should have this week. Maybe I shouldn't have said that certain response I said at work. Maybe my dog doesn't love me anymore. She kind of looks sad and I keep neglecting her. I typically would pet her and hug her for at least a total of two hours at night, not including feeding her, taking her potty, taking her on a walk, lounging on the couch. Maybe I haven't given her enough love. The love that she deserves for being the only living thing in this world that I truly love and that gives me unconditional love and zero drama. It has to be nice to be a dog. No responsibilities. Someone feeds you everyday. Every night you get taken potty, you get taken on walks, you get to lay around the house all day, and do whatever the hell you want. Your brain capacity doesn't allow you to stress over your nine-to-five job, your inevitable failing future, your dying dreams, or your hopeless lack-thereof relationship. Must be nice too eat, defecate, nap, and reach those spots with your own tongue. Sometimes I just wish I was a dog.

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