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For some reason I turned into a blogger.

So.. On Monday, my best friend, Imagination, was found dead beside my feet on a hot Southern California afterschool afternoon. She was a sixteen year-old Dalmatian, and maybe one of the closest living beings to me.

I would be listening to music with her, even if she was deaf, she'd still hang around in my room.

I'd be drawing on the floor, or sewing something, and she'd sit there, wondering what i'm doing.

Every night I'd have to take her outside on a little walk in the backyard, and she'd watch me stare at the black widows and the other spiders. And I'd wait till she did her business so we could go back inside and so she wouldn't do it in the house.

And now all I can smell in the back yard is that god awful stench that I've gotten used to.

I can't draw anything anymore without looking for her in the corner of my eye.

I can't listen to music anymore without thinking about her brown eyes staring up at the CD player.

It was the most terrible thing, opening the door, and having the thing I feared the most lay there before me in the decaying sun. I feared not seeing her stomach rise, I feared knowing she wasn't breathing. And then I saw her tongue on the floor, purple, cold. And the flies. So many disrespectful flies.

I had to pick her up one last time, not because she had the inability to stand up on her own, or go up or the stairs, but because she was dead. Her head flopped left to right and she wasn't as heavy as she used to be. And she was unnaturally warm, as if the sun was cooking her corpse. I've never despised the sun as much as I did then. I set her on the black plastic bag that my dad cut open and we doubled it twice.

To think she was healthy in the morning, I was going to leave for school but I saw her looking up at me, shaking on my room floor. The morning coldness got to her, so I put my blanket on her and kissed her on the forehead, like I always do. And I was content that I said goodbye with that kiss while I sat in the living room, crying silently.

My friends are telling me i'm going to be okay, I am going to be okay, but I'm not going to have that other part of my soul with me. Or that chunk of my heart. Or that piece of my smile anymore. It'll be gone.