Bassie.

Freewrite.
-

I'm laying here on the old stained
blue carpet, that we desperately need
professionally cleaned, and I'm amazed
at the journey we've been through.

I can't help but laugh as "The Office"
runs in the background and it's near
midnight and I want to sleep a dreamless
sleep, for you've made this day and
every day something new
and let's be honest, often unexpected.

You're a senior yet you outsmarted
us all when I looked away for one
second and you stole the bun off her
burger. I shook my head because
there's not much else to do.
You know I don't give table scraps.
You finally settled down, after
burying a bone and attempting to dig
until you found all the moles in
the backyard.

Many people think I just love
animals, and that's all there is to it,
but they don't know how he saved me;
usually I'm a pretty big believer
in being my own savior,
however not without help.
I don't tell many the story
not because I'm ashamed,
simply because it's hard to bring
up to strangers the darkest time
of your life.

Cautiously released from a psych ward
after my second attempt, and I didn't
know how to truly enjoy life
when three weeks prior, I had wanted
such a different, bleak reality.
He chose my bed as the first
place to lay down, and though it
was an adjustment,
he understood the days when I
grieved the person I used to know,
before mental illness made its
presence loud and clear.
After all, how was I to know as a
junior in high school that not
wanting to even try in school
meant something more?
Someone who craved studying,
who wanted to do her best
then slowly sunk and clung
to the crevices of the mattress
that smothered her will.

He gave me purpose
on the roughest of days, pushing
me to be the best caregiver
and pushing me to walk
outside with him by my side.
To realize if I left this world,
he would be cared for,
just not by me.

He barks a lot and is obnoxious
and yes, sometimes I need space
but I can't sleep without him.
He tucks everyone in at night,
a bit demanding, waiting til
we are all safe and sound to
finally snore, sprawled out by
the fan or on top of my pillow.

I couldn't do this thing called
life without him.