No one will look me in the eye anymore. I wander the streets alone, hoping for any sort of interaction. With anyone.
My life isn’t what is used to be. Whenever I hear laughter, I assume it is being aimed at me. Murmurs and whispers drive me insane. My mind suggests to me there is a joke going round and everyone finds it funny except me. I am the butt of it.
It wasn’t always like this, believe me. I was an optimist. I’d go to the park every day and just run around. That used to be enough to make me happy. Such a simple thing. Prancing through the tall grass, chasing after tennis balls.
I’ve tried to make things better. I thought my public urination would get me some attention. Good or bad - I didn’t care at this point. On pavements. On trees. Sometimes I’d piss right next to someone in hope of a reaction. I'd receive none.
The life of a journalist sure as hell ain’t easy. That I can tell you for sure. I haven’t lost faith completely though. Not yet.
Also the dog in the picture was shunned by the canine community for wearing some sort of unicorn costume. More on that to follow.
