And then we get pissed when people don’t realize they’re stepping on them in the dark.
I suffer, I do. And I’m not the only one with my black dog. And I’m not the only one who has to deal with it, because my poor family has to deal with my mood. Though I’ve recently started talking about it, most of the people in my life don’t know about it.
And then people say shitty things that they think are funny on a dark day. And they’re dumb, these comments, like my brother saying my complaints about my new home are first world problems. Minimizing something that’s really getting to me, something I really care about. And, yeah, it isn’t me feeding or clothing my kids, and, yes, I have a roof over my head, but first world problems means something unimportant like too much foam in your latte. I didn’t think my complaints were similar. But, yeah, dumb. Why on earth would that bug me so much? Because that black dog is whining in the corner, has been for a few days, and he just came in and kicked it. He didn’t mean to, he just didn’t know it was there, and he still doesn’t know, because it’s silent when he’s around.
So, how do I know when to let the dog bark and when to keep it quiet? What mathematical formula? Beyond the fact that some people can’t be trusted with the knowledge, and some friends have already left me for learning about it.
Trying to love that poor thing.