desidia

another mouse. got caught by the head and instead of vertabrae snapping, it just laid there struggling, suffocating, so I let it outside. it just laid there breathing heavily. I don't know if it lived, ran off to die or was carried off by a scavenger but its not where I put it now. it making a recovery and coming back inside to plague me some more is not an option.

I felt good for a few hours after I let it go. like it was a good deed. then I forgot about it a few hours. then I felt guilty. now I feel selfishly melancholy and think of it only as some vague metaphor of my own life or all our lives and not a living creature with needs at all.

I have what I think is a pet shop boys song stuck in my head.

"You killed all of my dreams
With your black, black heart"

And its ringing with me. I'd like to blame someone for the disllusionment but its mainly no ones fault and partially mine. I'd like to be the black hearted killing the dreams of others but all this trying to find an apartment and looking for a new job makes me feel vulnerable and insignificant. My black broken heart feels like the black of snow that gets washed against the sidewalk dirty with asphalt.