To: StringTheory27
Date: June 20th, 1997, 9:57 PM
Subject: Leashes and Lapses
I almost adopted a dog today.
Again.
There was this scruffy black-and-white mutt—ears too big, tail too short, one of those faces that looks like it’s perpetually asking if you’re okay.He followed me like we already belonged to each other.Just sat beside me while I scrubbed the kennels, like he didn’t need a leash to know where home might be.
I had the form in my hand.Pen uncapped.And then I just ...stalled.
Because it hit me.
Dogs mean consistency.Structure.Staying.
They mean mornings and muddy floors and holidays that require boarding fees.
They mean you don’t disappear when you get overwhelmed.
And I don’t know if I’ve earned that yet.
Not because I wouldn’t show up for him—but because the last time I promised to show up for someone, I didn’t.Not really.I kept thinking I had time.That love was this elastic thing.That if it stretched too far, it’d bounce back.
It didn’t.It snapped.
And I’m still trying to figure out if I’m someone worth trusting again.
So, I walked out of the shelter alone.Again.
Not because I didn’t want the dog.He was adorable, but because I need to become the person who can be chosen by someone—anything—and not let them down.
And because I know you’ll ask, yeah, I had my headphones on.
This was the playlist.Call it Trying Not to Cry in Front of a Dog: Volume 2.
Top 5 Songs I Played at the Shelter Today
“Disarm”—The Smashing Pumpkins
There’s pain in this song that doesn’t scream—it seethes.That orchestration?It’s childhood, guilt, and trying to make sense of the wreckage you didn’t mean to cause.
“Learning to Fly”—Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
It’s not about flying.It’s about falling with intent.About starting over, even when you know the ground’s still going to hurt.
“Drive”—R.E.M.
Feels like floating in your thoughts.It doesn’t push.It lingers.The kind of song that makes you ask yourself questions you weren’t ready for.
“Come Undone”—Duran Duran
Smooth, strange, haunting.It’s the unraveling, but slow—like realizing in real-time that you’re not the version of yourself someone else remembers.
“In the Meantime”—Spacehog
Weirdly cosmic, almost euphoric, but still existential.It pulses like a heartbeat you didn’t realize you missed until it kicked in again.There’s confusion in it, but also motion—like drifting through the dark and realizing you’re still tethered to something.It doesn’t offer answers, just a strange comfort in knowing you’re still moving, even if the direction isn’t clear.
