Teach me how to be happy.

I knew that our time together in this world was limited. I knew that sooner or later one of us had to say goodbye to each other. And yet your death took me by surprise, shocked me to the core and the truth is that I don't think I will be able to recover from this. Ever.
This was the first time ever, I understood what death really was, how painful it felt and that how different it is when the person you loved is no more on Earth. It took me all these days and an immense amount of courage to even think about writing this. But I had to do this, for my own sake.

I still remember the day I met you. You were this chubby little fur ball of awesomeness that lit up every room you enter with your innocent eyes and cutest mannerisms. We bonded quickly and you were an integral part of all the crazy stupid games that my sister and I used to play, back in the old days. I remember how you used to get jealous when we ignored you, but of course, we did that on purpose so as to hear you whine impatiently while doing all kinds of silly acts just to get our attention.

I don’t just remember you for all the fun we had. I remember you even for those bad days of my life. I remember hugging you and sitting next to you silently when everything was breaking apart. I remember crying next to you when there were days I just felt like giving up. I remember talking to you endlessly about how I wish our lives were simpler again. But of course, you never uttered a word. All you did was lean onto me, while slowly resting your head on my shoulder for me to stroke your head gently, soothing us both down.

I remember how I didn’t turn my back on you to say goodbye the day I left our home. I heard you screaming and crying at the top of your voice as if you were begging me to stay as you saw me walk away.  Nobody knows this, but one of the reasons I made silly excuses and kept coming back home was just to see you. There were countless times I peeked over the front gate, just to catch a glimpse of you every time I walked past our home. And sometimes all I could do was just hear your sound but that was more than enough for me simply because knowing you were okay made me feel okay.

A day never passed by where I haven’t thought of you. The five years we spent apart has given me endless opportunities to talk to every random person about you. And for the brief time I was home again, I really thought that we were going to spend the rest of our lives together. But unfortunately, that didn’t quite work out. It killed me that I had to say goodbye to you again. I remember kissing your forehead before leaving home for the last time and you screaming and calling me back as I exited.

I just want to let you know how much you mean to me. For you weren’t just my baby, my best friend, my brother, my son, my playmate. You were and will always be my most precious childhood memory. Now that you are gone, I will try and hold your memory close. I miss you with every breath I take. I miss you, Jimmy. Every day, I get on social media, I see endless posts and videos about other dogs and it kills me inside. It kills me because you were the best dog ever. You were such a good boy and your existence has kept me happy since the day I met you. I couldn’t tell you that but I want you to know that.

I hope you have made new friends in heaven. Even if you haven’t it’s okay. I’ll join you there one day and together, we will make countless new memories each day.

It's ok to be born different.
It's ok to be abnormal, subnormal and normal.
It's ok to be scarred, to be scared.
It's ok that you once cared.
It's ok your childhood was a mess.
It's ok you're still a damsel in distress.
It's ok to wish for everything.
It's ok to have had nothing.
It's ok to be a child and still grow up.
It's ok to live in fear, to casually throw up.
It's ok to not fit the frame.
It's ok to not have hit the fame.
It's ok to talk to yourself.
It's ok to listen to others than thyself.
It's ok to dance under the moon.
It's ok to walk like a complete loon.

It's ok to have odd mannerisms.
It's ok to like everything everyone else says.
It's ok not to like everything everyone else says.
It's ok to be gullible.
It's ok to be shy.
It's ok to be fat.
It's ok to be short.
It's ok to be called ugly.
It's ok to fall in love.
It's ok to have lost the war.
It's ok to pour out how your heart feels.
It's ok to be shot down, stomped upon.
It's ok to be broken.
It's ok to cry your heart out.
It's ok to yell at the top of your lungs at random.
It's ok to pretend at times.
It's ok to laugh maniacally.
It's ok to make others laugh.
It's ok to show how you feel.
It's ok to hope, not to give up.
It's ok to want to go places and to adopt a pup.
It's ok to feel something other than happy.
It's ok to feel love, hate and everything in between.
It's ok to be a mystery than a mere tragedy.

It's ok to be this way.
It's ok to be okay.
It's ok to be you.

Every time he opened his mouth,
it was either to kiss or to lie.
Eventually, I got sick of both.

When I was five,
my mother told me I was loved.
Years later, she asked me to leave because
I was the reminder of the gruesome past that haunted her.

When I was ten,
my father told me he believed in me.
Years later, he refused to accompany me because
I was an embarrassment to him in front of the society.

When I was fifteen,
my friends told me I was funny.
Years later, they all laughed at me because
I was the gullible teenager who fell for their flawless façade.

When I was twenty,
this guy said I was beautiful.
Years later, he trashed me, tormented me because
I was ignorant enough to overlook my inevitable flaws.

So, sorry for not believing in you,
for questioning your intentions, inclusively, in-depth
when you told me you loved me because
I didn’t want to wind up years later,
learning it the hard way that people often don’t mean what they say.