Into The Mouth Of The Wolf

I’ve been trying to cope with my melancholia in a really controlled way, by avoiding talking about it too much, and denying myself the comfort of tapping into this profound sadness. I’ve realized that people expect you to get over the death of your pet much faster than that of a human, and after a few weeks, you’re expected to stop bringing it up. To stop needing validation of your grief.

The truth is, the tiny body that slept against my mine, the thing that I loved more than I ever even realized myself capable of loving, is now ashes in a box, on a bookshelf in my living room. And it’s not ok, I’m not ok, yet.

And I didn’t know where else to say this.

at first i was like “why did they make those things in his head weird growths and not hair??” but then i looked it up on the Pokemon Wiki and