8 years.
Felt more like 3. Just total blackness, after that fateful Sunday. But as life would have it, a reminder came up, causing all of life's juices being sucked up through your straw. Lifeless. 3 weeks and counting, but no refills.
I now remember how it was being taken care of, fed, fussed about. It was the darkest period of life, away for 5 years. In the wilderness but still knowing somehow you got my back.
It's a curse, she says, and will be for as long as I live for the grievances caused to you. If this isn't Karma, then what is.
My only prayer for your release into the wild is to hope something will come your way soon, while I look from the outside. The burning question of whether this was the right thing to do. I don't know.
Sorry.
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