What was the point?

What was the point of getting you to a vet if you were going to die two days later? What was the point of standing over you yelling at blue cross to come if you weren't going to make it? What was the point of having you safe and sound in an animal shelter if you were never going to walk again? What was the point of praying for you if nobody was going to listen? What was the point of calling everyday if no one believed you'd live? What was the point of going there and seeing you doing better if it was just temporary? What was the point of hearing people say you were going to get better if it was just lies? What was the point of feeling so attached to you if you weren't going to be around? What was the point of crying if I never even got to know you?

What's the point of anything?

Just like that dog

You unfeeling pretentious asshole. I hope a car comes crashing into you while you're on that fucking motorcycle, just like you crashed into that poor dog. I hope you fall off and have your leg shattered, just like what happened to that dog. I hope that car drives away without anyone looking back, just like you didn't look back when you slammed into that dog. I hope you lay there and no one comes to help you, just like you didn't help that dog. I hope you wait for help and drag yourself pleading, just like you made that dog plead. I hope when you finally get help, you're told you won't be able to walk, just like that poor dog might not be able to. I hope you go through so much pain and agony, just like you put that dog through. I hope you suffer through every single moment, just like you made that dog suffer.

I hope every single day you go through hell and die a miserable and lonely death.

I looked for you...

Had a terrifying dream. I dreamed you were alive. That you'd just simply gotten lost. And to find you, we lost our way. We couldn't get back and all that time I knew you'd be wondering where we were. Why we couldn't be bothered finding you.

But I did. I looked for ways to get out, to not settle in. But, in the end, nothing I did mattered. When it was ready, it threw us back into reality.

A reality where you were still lost. Where I entertained dreams of you knocking on the door and saying, "I'm sorry I was gone so long." And being so sorry that you missed out on so much.

And every knock, every call was never you... Until, that fateful day you came back. I saw you coming and I rushed to open the door. You stood there, nary a smile on your face. You stood there and looked at me, accusing me.

And I ran away. Because I realised you were never coming back. You were lost and, in my dreams, finding you didn't help. It would never be you.