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To Boom and the other Booms of my life.
Good bye, Boom.
My hedgehog died today. I don’t know how old she was exactly, but I’ve had her for about a year and a week. Superman gave her (and her hubby) to me for my 20th birthday last year, when I really wanted hedgehogs. I named her Boom, and I named her husband Sonic.
We took care of them for a while, my family and I. We’d let them out of their cage and let them run around on the floor and on the bed and all that. We’d bathe them every week and talk to them, and we loved them.
Boom gave birth to her first litter of hoglets on April 28, 2011. I was the only one home, and I panicked when I heard the little babies crying. Out of the six, only two survived, and they both went to loving families too.
I can’t remember when exactly I started neglecting the hedgehogs (maybe it was when I started working, or when I officially started going out with Kitty) but it all climaxed when I got Doug, my Siamese cat. No, there was no space in my life or timetable for little spiked rodents anymore, and I had to give the couple to a friend.
Boom was already sick by then. I thought she would die in his care for sure.
But she didn’t, and she even gave birth to more hoglets. Four this time, right in the UPKAS tambayan. I gave Sonic to a friend that same day because I couldn’t take care of him anymore, and brought Boom and her babies home.
None of the hoglets survived, but months later, Boom surprised me by giving birth to several hoglets again. After being alone for months. Boom could possibly have been the Virgin Mother Hedgehog-style, and I just let her die.
I’ve been neglecting her since, and I know I have. It makes things both harder and easier for me, knowing that I let it happen. I’m not an idiot for not having seen it coming, but I’m not absolved either. I could have saved a life.
I guess what saddens me the most is that Boom’s death was just another part of the lesson that the Universe seems to have been trying to teach me lately.
I’ve been out having the time of my life for the past month. Just chilling and trying to soothe my burnt-out spirit, but mostly trying to find myself again and trying to find my niche and what could make me happy. I’ve been selfish, yes, I know, and I’ve been irresponsible (well, I don’t think so, as I’ve managed to handle all the things I’ve “had” to do, just not the extra-curricular, but I’m sure other people would agree that I’ve been irresponsible to say the least), but it’s all just because I’ve decided to cater to no one but myself for a while.
It pisses me off that all this seems to blow up in my face every so often. I offend people and apparently, I’ve been rude for trying to be happy. I guess it’s my fault too, because I haven’t explained this to anyone. I just thought it wouldn’t matter, because what really matters is that I know what I’m doing, and I understand why I’m doing this.
I’ve hurt a lot of people in the past month. Some on purpose, some by accident. Truth be told, I don’t regret anything. I don’t regret telling you that you’re pissing everyone off; nor do I regret not telling you where I was last night. I don’t regret all the flirting and bitching and getting drunk off my ass and losing my voice because I had a really good night. No, I don’t regret any of that, because for the past month, I’ve been happy, more or less.
But if I’d been paying attention in the past month, Boom might still be alive now.
I don’t regret anything, but I’m afraid, that maybe all of these people I’ve hurt and all of these connections I’ve put on halt will end up like her too. Not dead literally, but dead. That in the end, all I’ll have left is an empty cage with a bowlful of untouched cat food.
I’d love to apologize for all the classes I’d missed because of my epic hangovers, all the meetings I hadn’t been able to attend because I’d found what seemed to be better uses of my time, all the people I’d dissed because they just didn’t seem to be worth the effort, or all the other crap I hadn’t been able to do, but I don’t have the time.
I want to apologize, but I want it to come from my heart. I want every word to bleed with my emotions and my fears and my sincerity, but I can’t do all that in one sitting. I can’t just sit here and type out an apology to every single person who’s halfway out the door, nor talk to every single person by the end of the month. I know that for some, it might already be too late. But I can’t fake an apology (and nobody’s saying that anyone should. I guess apologies are like orgasms then: you shouldn’t fake them even if it’ll make the other person feel better) and I need more time.
The real world is catching up with me now, and the deadlines and the sketches are coming up. I’m so sorry. I have to keep thinking for and of myself right now. If you can’t wait for the chance to hear me out, then I won’t blame you if you leave. I still have no regrets. I’ll be sad and miss you when you’re gone, and I’ll think of better times, but I know there’s nothing I can do. You can’t turn back time, just like you can’t bring a dead hedgehog back to life.
