Sam

Fuck. I started crying.

Today, Sam died. Sam is my dog - who lived with my Mother in the last few years.

I fucking hate dogs. They're so goddamned loyal. So, giving - so fucking selfless. They are angels. And I'm overwhelmed with guilt. I want to play with Sam's long companion. Now alone. Sandy.

I want to play ball with her so fucking bad. I want to forget about all this bullshit. I pitched in front of important. Los Angeles people. Those who could maybe finance, invest, produce a feature film. People who'll read the script.

And then I screened my film. And it looked like shit. Too dark. The first line of the film was cut off. And it played last - after an amazing assortment of animated, live action brilliant pieces. My film was the shitty film.

Goddamn it. Life is so easy when you just throw a stick for your dog. And Sandy would play with me all fucking day. She'd fucking love me when my film looked like crap. She'd still fucking chase after that ball, bring it back. Fucking go after that shit. Goddamn it.

I was too fucking confident. I started to grow an ego. Yea, man - I can do this. I'm fucking amazing. I'm playing goddamn AFI Film Festival - I'm amazing. 1800 films - only 35 chosen - they picked me - because I'm amazing.

FUCK YOU.

Sam was so fucking loyal.

When he was just a puppy I dropped him on his leg. He limped around and then got better. But when he got older, he had arthritis. Sometimes, I think it's my fault he felt like that.

I HATE FEELING GUILTY. I HATE FEELING LIKE A BAD PERSON. I HATE DOGS.

Goddamnit, you son of a bitch. You fucking loyal piece of shit.

My mother just got back from her honeymoon. She was supposed to be happy now. And you just fucking died. You couldn't let her be happy. And now - you fucking left your best friend behind.

Who's going to throw the stick with Sandy now? Why was I always so fucking mean to you? Why am I so mean to people? I hate being mean. I'm so sad right now.

I'd like to play fetch now. Until this all goes away.