A journal log. Clyde, the horse that reminded me I can still play.
|....So, I clean stalls. That's what horse people do. I bring the horses out, I bring the horses in, I help feed sometimes. I know what to do. I've been doing it since I was zero, but I've lost it. The passion to live, the passion to love, anyone, anything, including myself. I don't know why. Wait, yes, I do. I've given up so much, just gave it away. Away, to people who didn't deserve it. People who used it. People who were better with it, but not for it. Some people did better. Some didn't. Some people didn't make it at all, but i gave it all.
So, that is why I lost my love for everything. I'm just tired. Tired of trying. Tired of giving. But the horses, they were always there. whether I was sad or mad, lonesome or glad. They didn't change. They didn't go away. They didn't argue or fight, OK, maybe sometimes but it was always my fault and when I realized that, we were good again. Suffice it to say it didn't end in a big 'end of the world fight'. we moved on and were forgiven for mistrust or misuse.
So, that i think is why I have been shown, just a bit, that i still matter. This one horse. This one day. Chose to play with me in such a kind playful manner. The biggest part was that it was together. I feel as though i have not had anything 'together' in a long time.
Thanks CLYDE, see you tomorrow.