I am a huge dog lover. We have three dogs at home named Bruce, a black lab, Yuufa, a snowy aspin, and Bart, a cream lhasa apso. I love them all so much. I give them baths, feed them, groom them almost obsessively. They’ve been a good help to me for helping me cope with my bipolar whenever the depression hits. They calm me down, and even though they’re a bit naughty sometimes, I still love them.

That’s why today I feel a little down. Normally, I’m not that queasy with blood. I like giving blood to the Red Cross, for one, just a bit scared of needles, generally just okay with blood. I’m not scared of it. But today I took a huge tick out of Bart’s paw, and I didn’t realize how deep it bit on him, and so it drew blood when I pulled the fucker off his paw. That made me feel dizzy and queasy, I threw up. I don’t know why. Then I started crying and petting the dog, but he wasn’t feeling bad at all (well, his tail was curved and wagging, that’s a good sign). But still I… I dunno.

I’m fucked up, yeah?