it is the fifteenth day of February and i am crying at home

It's the fifteenth day of February and I am sitting at home.

It's the fifteenth day of February and I am crying while sitting at home. It's the fifteenth day of February and I am crying about having dug my own grave while sitting at home.

Like an ill-mannered dog I have misbehaved and my owner has beaten me with a baseball bat for it.

At the time I did not understand why I was being punished. I had done nothing wrong, I did not deserve this.

I did not die, after. A limp and one bloodshot eye was the grim reminder of my misbehaving.

If I had not been beaten I would have misbehaved again. It was necessary.

"Sometimes pain is earned." said my owner.

I have done this to myself.

You see, when we begin our lives in this world we are creators. We create our lives, our memories, our experiences. Ever since I had met my owner I knew I was building something. If only I had known it was a grave. My grave.

I don't want to perish.

Heaven is a dark room and there is nothing there for us.

There is no subtlety, no hidden meaning.

You are the owner and I am the dog. I got what I deserved and I will perish because since the first day of February I knew this was going to devastate me.

And it has

But you know

Sometimes pain is earned.