Yesterday I euthanized my beloved betta fish Ulysses with many tears and a few drops of supposedly humane clove oil. I cried when I discovered the disease he had was incurable. I cried the next day when I knew he wasn't going to make it. I cried when I watched his gills slowly stop moving as he fell into a deep sleep which, within 60 seconds, stopped his heart. Do fish have hearts? I don't know, but I like to think that that's what happened. My best friend assisted me in purchasing the necessary oil, as well as a white chrysanthemum (I don't know how to spell that, obviously...) in memory. I then sanitized all his equipment as a bitter goodbye to the fish I loved for over a year. It sounds silly to cry over a fish, but as an animal lover I couldn't stand to see him suffer. Thankfully he's not in pain anymore. RIP my Uylsses.
In Other News...
I am seriously considering going to the doctor for anti-depressants or some kind of medication to treat manic-depressive disorder. Last night my body, and mind, reacted in a way I've never felt before. Boyfriend was over, which was fine, I never pass up a chance to see him (I believe I am progressing). Following Memoirs of a Geisha, we went to sleep where we had a deep discussion, the nuances of which I won't go into. However, I ended up having something of a mental breakdown when I realized that while I do admit I love him, I can't seem to get my mouth to form the words. It's something I'm struggling against and I don't understand why it's so difficult. How hard can it be to utter three small words? Possibly it's because they do mean so much.
So, feeling the way I do today, I am relaxing on some cushions while the laundry runs it's cycle, watching Bones, drinking tea, and slowly dismembering a chocolate bunny. I don't feel an ounce of sympathy for the rodent I am consuming. Poor little guy, if he wasn't made of chocolate I surely would not be picking away at him with the "classic girl" mixture of pleasure and guilt.
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