My mom took my guinea pig to the vet today while I was coming home from class.
Apparently he died while she was at the vet. So.
She came home, cried, I tried to make her feel better-
And then tomorrow, maybe, she'll try to bury him in the woods or something.
I...haven't cried yet. I don't know why, but.
It just. Doesn't feel like anything. I wasn't excited that he died.
Or truly, like. Heartbroken. I mean, don't get me wrong-
That was my guinea pig. That was my baby. That was my little pretty boy. That was my little prince. That was my handsome boy. That was the perma-grumpy rodent I took care of.
But I don't really feel anything about him passing.
I'd be concerned, but I guess I knew and accepted that he'd die someday and...well.
I guess I was so prepared and expectant of it happening that I really wasn't fazed in the slightest.
Well, I mean, I definitely still look right to his empty cage in my room when I first enter, expecting to see him camped lazily as always in front of his water bottle.
I tried my best to keep him alive. I gave him vitamins, I cleaned his cage, I even gave him water through a dropper.
The vet said that guinea pigs actually only live 5-6 years, so...him living 5 years was a long time for him.
I guess it was just his time to go, he was getting old. And...he had a nice, long, spoiled life.
I only hope that he wasn't in pain before he died. If he was, then...I guess it's nice that he's dead so he doesn't have to continue feeling all that anymore.
- - - - -
Today wasn't that bad. I don't have much homework, I think I'm doing alright so far.
I mean, I knocked out the figure drawing paper same day.
And then, for 3D design, I have 2/3 things that I need for next week.
And then, for tomorrow, I already know what to bring.
Thanks to having the same teachers last semester, I know what to bring.
I already have a toolbox full of my supplies, so. I'm good.
All ready for tomorrow.
- - - - -
I feel a little better than I did earlier. I mean, it was an alright day.
But I feel a bit better now.
Also, I was concerned earlier when I weighed myself.
I used a really good scale.
But...it said yesterday that I was 103.4.
Today? After a small breakfast and small lunch?
104.8, which...isn't a huge change. That's nice.
But what's got me concerned is that for days before I weighed myself, I was binge eating like all the time.
But then I weigh myself recently and I'm only 103.4 pounds?
I...guess I must have weighed a lot less before I started binge eating-
Which is scary.
Or I'm just getting really concerned over nothing, and I'm confused.
Either way, ah. I feel like I'm thinking too much about my weight.
I try not to trouble myself over it, but I won't lie and say I wasn't happy about weighing about 103.
- - - - -
My mom told me today that my scheduled orthodontist appointment next week was moved to 12-something.
And it's a long appointment (taking braces off, which she still doesn't know) so I'm gonna need some Motrin and stuff beforehand.
But, ah. I'm excited. It's only 9 days away.
And at that, it's pretty early in the morning.
I'm soooo excited. @w@~
- - - - -
Some girl in 3D design asked if Trevor and I were related-
Which, we're not. Just because we both have, well;
Glasses, the same color of hair, and approximately the same length of hair, we are not related.
I suggested to Trevor that maybe I should dye my hair black.
And, well. I've kinda always wanted to dye my hair some extreme color (as supposed to dying my hair a dirty blonde color when I'm already a dark blonde and it hardly makes a difference).
I wouldn't mind dying my hair black. Trevor suggested red.
Either way would be fine.
Although, I think he's only kidding. I don't know how he'd actually feel about that.
I mean, it's not like he could stop me from doing it.
But it's not like I would be hurting anything, anyway.
I do honestly get tired of people thinking we're related, especially when we're out and in public, like holding hands and stuff.
Like, what the ******** at that point. Would you hold your older-looking-ish brother figure's hand in the mall? Uh. That's weird. And it doesn't happen often in this area.
Or well, lemme rephrase that. Not out in public. Not at our mall.
...
Annnnyway, my point is-
I dislike people mistaking me for his sibling.
I'd really like it if I could maybe do something about my appearance and change that.
I think dying my hair would fix it.
I'm unable to do contacts, so. Out of the question.
- - - - -
In other news, I've had like 5 or 6 songs stuck in my head today.
Follow Me by Uncle Kracker was one of them.
"Follow me everything is alright.
I'll be the one to tuck you in at night.
And if you want to leave,
I can guarantee,
You won't find nobody else like me~"
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