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Dog meat and Despair at 23

Dog meat and Despair at 23

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Jul 12, 2025
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Non-Fiction
A world that's dystopian, and on most days, painfully normal. Dear reader, That's the world I live in. I'd like to believe my redemption was my own doing. That I was the hero in my story. But it wasn't me. It was someone else. Someone who taught me how to love. How to forgive. How to live. Someone who killed dogs for a living. In a world where our stomachs are filled with dog meat and our bodies full of symptoms, how has no one put two and two together? What if- Dog meat caused the illness. Hear me out: What if eating dog meat is the illness? What if-just what if-we made ourselves sick, and refuse to admit it?
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#800
introspective
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I wrote this because I needed to survive it. Because there are some feelings too big for silence. Some heartbreaks too heavy to carry alone. This isn't fiction. This is my heart, broken open and rearranged into verse. "I saw you standing where the sidewalk curves, and suddenly my chest knew different words." - That's how it started. A glance. A stranger. A feeling I couldn't ignore. "You said we needed to talk. Those five words, I knew. I already knew." - And that's how it ended. Not with fire. With silence. I won't tell you that time heals all wounds. I won't say everything happens for a reason. I won't pretend heartbreak makes you stronger. But I will show you that: You can survive what you think will destroy you. You can break and still become beautiful. You can love someone and lose them and still be whole. You can be your own happy ending. I wrote these poems with tears on my face. I wrote them on good days when I forgot to hurt. Every word is something I actually felt. Every line is a moment I actually lived. "You are not broken. You are breaking open. And that's where the light gets in." - That's what this taught me. That's what I hope it gives you, the comfort of knowing you're not alone.

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