Saturday, 27 February 2016

Fuckit.

I drove for hours today with Sam, Loch and the horse trailer to get a horse that was needing me only when I got there she turned out to be too fragile to even transport and I had to turn her away, knowing that she will be put down before the weekend is out. I mean, I could have taken her and she might have gone just as fast. I was so hopeful that I could make her last hours beautiful and peaceful instead of noisy and dark and frightening. I can't think too much about things like bright lights and faith, dark skies and pavement, rushing nowhere. Not having tomorrows, no hope grown from yesterdays enough to see it through. No hope at all, Jake.

No horse either. Sam's gentle lead was a dead end, ironically enough.

No reward for all the work put into today only to see it end in utter defeat. I said I could handle it and I was wrong. Clearly I can't. Have a bottle of Jack Daniels and a plan to anesthetize myself into outer space where there are no horses and no ghosts either.