Shit to say:
Scared of dogs
Choccy nibs phenomenon
I have all sorts to write about. I read back through my notebooks and can’t help but flick a few pages back. My memory remains in a bad way, so each page presents text I have no recollection of scribbling down. Some of the hits over the past few have been preparation and wording for breakups, followed closely by a good 30 pages on what I’m calling the choccy nibs phenomenon.
I’ve never been too strong at presenting my feelings to anyone, so the notes help. Each tense conversation that’s occurred in the past year between me and someone with a vested interest in my heart comes with an in-depth cheat sheet on words to and to not say. I am aware this makes me look like a complete freak, but it’s how things must be done if progress is to be made. I correlate this change with the turn of times when I stopped drinking and doing other things that usually piqued my confidence. Back then I’d be happy for all-out emotional warfare but now I prefer to know what the fuck I mean before I assure my listener I do.
What’s next – right the dogs. I’m not scared of dogs, I love dogs. There’s no better way to round off a day than scrubbing and squeezing the head of your local dog. I spent a good amount of time around a dog who I now know as a badly behaved dog. Being around that dog was fine, I loved him, I understood him and I truly cared about him. He was a nob around other dogs, to the point where walking him meant avoiding them at all costs which was sometimes hard to do. So passing them within say 5 metres had my eyes wide, heart thumping and fight or flight kicking the fuck off, full pelt. He had a scrap with another dog that wandered up to him once and the guy went mad and I wanted to die, I mean I felt like I was dying and M##### who was standing next to me through this whole ordeal looked horrified, and rightly god damn so. The guy wouldn’t accept my apology and refused to take my number in case the dog was hurt and just kept telling me if it happens again he’ll kill my dog and I’m stood there with one thought like yeah solid sounds good I get it mate I’m truly sorry and another just prodding me like bang this lad out, plug the dog and his, bury them out here, grab M##### and we’ll live out our days in Thailand or something. 2 nights or so later I was lying in bed and had a panic attack just lay there which is mad and I know I know panic attacks like who is this pussy but honestly, until you’ve had one full-blown you can stfu. In summary, dogs have my heart beating like fook.
So here we are, it’s March 2025 and I haven’t seen that dog in close to a year – he’s someone else’s problem now. But now I see dogs in the street and my heart starts racing and I can feel my head start prepping for the worst EVEN THOUGH I have no dog, I’m walking alone and the pup I’m looking at is no more than 2 months old so what the hell am I freaking out about. Whatever it is, it’s starting to take the piss. God damn dog ptsd. It can’t continue, I need to find a dog to reintegrate myself into the dog lovers’ community again. Or I’ll end up a cat guy then I’m fucked
We’ll go over choccy nibs another day, it’s long