Oh God. Oh my gracious God. She's dead! She wasn't young, exactly, but it wasn't like she was grey and grizzled either. I didn't even know I was capable of so many tears yesterday when I spent the whole day choking up at random intervals... I mean... She was just a dog. My dog. But a dog, nonetheless. I don't even like dogs. I drove to school and cried all morning. I managed to stop thinking about it around the middle of second hour. I wouldn't cry in second hour at all. I've already had a nervy b in English once this year and I can't take another. I ate my tears so that the girls at my table wouldn't be more fake than they already are and pretend to care when they ask "What's wrong?" No. I won't let them know what a weak person I am... I won't let them know how easy it is to make me cry...They'd most likely take advantage of it. By the time I went to sleep my eyes were slowly killing me, but I wasn't crying. Today I barely even thought about it...and when I did I didn't go full out sobbing. Until I came home and was almost done cleaning the bathroom. My little 10 year old sister came in. She mumbled something but I didn't hear it. I asked her, What. In a broken voice she repeated, "She's in the back of the van." I blinked. I told her she shouldn't have told me that. I waited until she left and I collapsed in the middle of the bathroom and let weeping take me away. Again. I can't ... I have a mental image.... I won't describe it. It's too vivid in my head and every time I see it I can't help but want to die, myself. I'm never going to see her again.