Even when I close my eyes

It's been seven years.
And I have no idea how to start this, no matter what I write, it won't look fitting. Let's first start with two dreams...


Or parts of dreams, but these were the most important parts of those dreams.
I remember the skies were kinda gray, I don't know if rainy gray or simply super dark gray. But consider it simply gray, we had a few destroyed buildings around, not big buildings, just parts of what once could have been a house, some white walls and things like that. Perhaps it had some resemblance to my old house.
I don't remember many of the details, I know I wasn't much happy. But, he was there. I'm going to say "he", because I feel a bit strange simply calling him a "it". I don't remember whether he appeared out of nowhere or whether he had been there ever since the beginning. But I felt happy that he was there. Let's put this straight, he was my mongrel dog, and his name was Bob.
I remember hugging him, it's been so freaking long since I've last seen him. Seven years, actually. And he said (bear in mind, I said dream):
—Happy birthday!
And then I said:
—Y-you still remember!
And on the inside I died a little. Because he still remembered that was my birthday (indeed I had this dream around that time of the year) despite of what happened seven years ago. We'll talk about it later, but putting it simply, I abandoned my dogs.
It didn't go much longer than that, I just stood there holding and looking at him. It felt so, overwhelming. It was, and is, a strange mixture of happiness, sadness and guilt. I don't deal that well with emotions I suppose.
And I remember I really wanted to say that I loved him, something I didn't say or show in the many years he was at our house. I really wanted. But the words wouldn't come out. And that was, well, devastating. Even after losing things it seemed I still couldn't value them.
Wonder why saying "I love you'' is such a hard task.
And that's how it ended, with these three words stuck somewhere. And a feeling of guilt that roared through the years, perhaps disguised as other things.

The next part.
This next dream was now indeed placed at my old house. It was a bit dark but not as dark as full night, as many of my dreams. I don't remember the chain of events that were presented earlier, I just remember I was looking at the grass of the backyard. I don't know where did I stay, inside my bedroom or at the living room, but it was most probably the living room.
Now, out of the blue, I had my two dogs out there in the backyard. It came as a surprise. And I just ran as fast as I could. I guess I simply destroyed the fence that we had separating the pool from the backyard.
But, as I got closer and closer, and that actually lasted for perhaps less than a second, they simply disappeared. As in, shining and fading out. And I held the air that now stood in their place. I don't remember what I said, if I said anything. But in my mind now it lies that I said I was sorry.
I really don't remember.
Perhaps because whatever I said it really doesn't matter. It doesn't change the past. But that's too much drama, let's move on.


As it turns out, I still feel bad for that.
Now, what happened was simple. We were moving out of the house, to an apartment. So my parents said we couldn't have the dogs anymore. We would give them to someone we knew, who had a big house with lots of space.
We agreed on it. Couldn't bring 'em to the apartment anyway.
One of these last days in our old house, was the day of farewell. They were taking the dogs away. I decided not to say goodbye, I just, stood inside the house where I couldn't see them and they couldn't see me. Because that way they wouldn't get sad. But on the reality, I wouldn't get sad. It was all just me.
I didn't have the guts to say goodbye.
Or in my words, I abandoned them.
Or in a way my mind decided to put it, I abandoned the few beings in this world that would keep me company no matter what I was.

And that was seven years ago.

On an unrelated note, we had two dogs, but one was my favorite. I feel kinda bad for this since both were pretty awesome dogs but you simply gotta admit these things sooner or later.

Now.
I've been talking to some people, they say I should let this go. And I can understand the logic in their words, but it seems too far-fetched for me to simply let go. Just saying "I'm sorry'' doesn't change anything, right?
I'm not a person who forgives. I never really developed this ability, nor have I ever quite understood. Earlier this year, we've faced a few events which involved forgiving someone else. I couldn't say, "I forgive you", it sounded ridiculous and false. All I said was "if you consider the fact that I do not think about you with so much anger, as forgiving, then you are forgiven". As much as that was honest, and I really meant it, I'm not sure whether it counts as forgiving. But the mere fact that I don't hold grudges against her anymore is something to be noted.
But looking further into this aspect, I see that I can't really forgive myself. For many things, after all, in our human state we pretty much have to do stupid stuff sometimes. As sad as it may be. And even though I am completely conscious of the fact that we make mistakes, I can't let mine pass.
When I was a child, well, ever since I was a child, I believed you had to pay for your mistakes. In the childhood, payment meant pain. I was quite a violent child, you could say. I don't really know. But when I hurt people, I knew they had finally paid for what they done and we could forget what had happened.
For obvious reasons, this behaviour didn't make through the years. BUT, that came with a price. Since there isn't punishment anymore, I don't feel like people have paid. And thus, it gets harder to let things go by.
Now that may sound pretty insane to many people, and I'm aware of that. But that's the way I grew up, and if there's one to blame, that's me.

You know what? I guess that doesn't matter. To keep on playing this same tune of how much of a vengeful creature I am since who knows when, is just the same as using an old excuse to justify my acts.
It doesn't fucking matter.
A definition Sara gave me for forgiving oneself was feeling was to feeling sad for it and being certain that, were you facing, now, that situation, you would act differently. Not as in ''oh, I wish I had made it another way". But as in simply knowing that you can't do that way again. You don't suffer for wishing, you suffer for not being once, what you are now. Anyway I'm starting to de-rail myself.
It gets complicated when you gotta decide whether it's time to move on or not. I have no idea if I have already suffered enough, and I find it is not fair for one to decide about its own suffering. I don't know how sad I made those dogs, but I also don't know if dogs hold grudges like this. My guess is they don't. They are not as horrid as we are. But thinking they aren't makes me sad because they should have been treated better.
I don't really know.
All I'm sure is that they gotta be in heaven now. Even though I don't really believe in heaven or hell. But my automatic guess is that that's where they should be.
I don't know, I can't say that I really liked them or that I'm sorry. Saying this now has the same effect as saying what is my favorite dish. It won't change anything.
But maybe. If I learn something with this. Then it can be left alone and we can move on. At least it shows that you should value things before they go, right? That's a lesson better said than learnt. Maybe then I can learn to show things, and I won't feel ridiculous for it.
I expected to write something more, worthy of being the farewell text for the best dog that has ever walked this stupid planet. But I guess, that's it.
I guess I can only say thanks.
To anywhere, wherever you may be. From the boy who never managed to grow much from those old days.