To Write Or Not To Write

[Poppy Lockwood]

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Well might as well cut straight to the heart of the matter.

It has only been about three weeks since my pet passed. Yeah, Coca Cola is dead. Not alive. Not breathing. Gone. Not coming back. Never ever coming back.

Because I don't believe in super natural stuff like that.

I know a thing or two about grief, thanks to the many books I've read. And bottling up the emotions was not the way to go. Hence, why I'm writing this. I mean, it would do me good, right?

So my cat died and--

Nope.

Nope nope nope nope. It hasn't even been a month yet. Forget it.

[Poppy Lockwood]

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It still has not been a month but I cannot go on. I mean, not suicide. It is just that it is hard to move on without getting this off my chest. Talking with Gabe helped a little but there is still this cloud of sadness that I just want it to fucking go away.

Is that so much to ask for?

Whatever.

[Poppy Lockwood]

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My mom is thinking about getting me another pet. And get this, she even said it does not have to necessarily be a kitten. It could be a hamster, bunny or a puppy.

What the hell.

...I do not even know what I am angry at but I know I just am. The fact that she brought it up. Ugh. I mean I guess from her eyes, it could be a good idea. She got Coca for me in the first place because I did not have much friends. So an animal companion, she thought, would help keep me company and forget the "loneliness". Well I love for what she did.

But this is way different than just some teenage girl problem that can be fixed with another pet. Coca Cola is not that easily replaceable. It hurts that she thought it was that simple.

Of course I want to cuddle something right now. Preferably something furry and adorable and alive and my cat. But I guess my tear stained bolster will do for now.

[Poppy Lockwood]

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I don't know where to start, but I know I need to let this out. Bottling feelings is never a good thing. I've read one to many books to know about that. Ugh, there's so many places to start.

I guess the beginning would be best.

'Twas the night before Christmas. Ha, no. It was Christmas morning actually -- December 2008. When the school break started, I followed mom shopping one day. She was Christmas shopping and I was just calling out things that I saw I liked in hopes she would get the hint to get it for me. Some people actually found it adorable that a nine year old was running around calling out items and saying how pretty it was.

Anyway, mom asked me one question that stood out that day. "Don't you want to buy some things for your friends?" At the mention of friends, I actually snorted. As if! But because she had asked that, I was pretty sure my teacher had called her -- again -- to inform her of her child's lack of close peers. It was kind of annoying. I mean, I was pleasant-ish to them, but why did that interaction had to take another step forward? I had "friends" -- as in people I see five times a week.

So I told mom how I had made a lovely-ish card each for all of my classmates and had given to them before the last bell rang. See, I was not as thoughtless as my teacher liked to put it. But I don't think that was enough for my parents because that was their reason for adopting Coca Cola for me. Despite knowing that they think I needed someone to keep me company, I am actually quite happy and grateful to mom and dad for getting the cat for me. Of course, back then I had not known their reason behind the gift. I was just happy to get a pet. Later on, I realized why.

When I woke up on Christmas 2008, the morning played out fairly normal. I ran down the stairs in my pajamas and like almost any other kid, I went straight for the presents under the tree. There were a few with the name Poppy on it, but I knew there would be more. You see, my parents did this thing where they'd place maybe half of my presents under the tree and then hid the rest so I'd receive them at unknown times throughout the whole day. It was fun and exciting.

You can guess when Coca Cola came. We had just finished lunch when my dad handed me a fairly big box. I was curious. The bigger the box, the bigger or the more the presents, right? Before I even had a chance to lift the cover, the little fur ball was already peeking out of it. "It's alive!" That was the first thing nine year old Poppy said.

Was it love at first sight? Close enough.

[Poppy Lockwood]

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Well that was not as hard as I imagined it would be.

It's lonely nowadays. Every time I wake up, there is no more that ball of fur that tickles me. Just, no more the feel of Coca Cola as I curl up under the blanket to read a book. The daily routines just felt off. Nothing felt the same and maybe nothing will ever be anyway.

As I had thought, I've visited the lake less frequently since that day. I think that much is quite obvious considering everything that had happened there. Even though it would not be the same exact lake where Coca took his last breath, it still send a punch in the stomach. Just going to a place that resembles anything from that day is tough. The memories...

Anyway, I've found other activities to keep me preoccupied. The other day, I played a couple game of tennis with a boy and won both rounds. He was good. We're playing against each other again soon. Healthy adversary is good, right?

Besides, I think anything from spending time in an empty dorm is good for me right now.