November 6th, 2019
There will always be people there to remind you of who and what you used to be.
Someone who, instead of celebrating your achievements of the moment, will tell you how you would have previously failed.
Someone who will mention how you used to act as opposed to how you’re behaving right now.
Someone who describes the person you used to be like it isn’t part of the person you are today.
And most of them won’t do it maliciously. I mean, some of them will. But they usually mean well and it’s well-tread road, what we know of good intentions.
And you’ll be hurt. You’ll be confused. You’ll be angry. You will really want to say something, to tell that person how hard you work, how far you’ve come, and how you don’t even hate the person you used to be — you pity them. You feel sad for them and you want to help them and you don’t think it’s fair to pick on them from the future. You’ll really want to say something but you won’t, and if you do, it could never express the complex feelings that you feel.
And then there’s your dog.
All she wants and cares about is you right now.
She knows all the trials and tribulations you’ve faced, the uncertain anxiety of the future, the everyday war of life — and she doesn’t care about all that.
She cares about this you, in this moment, right now, because she knows this is the only you that matters.
And this is the only thing that can save us.
A dog knows that life is made up of a few precious moments, and that the most important one is the one that’s happening right now.
Even, or especially, when it seems like other people are stuck.