Hunting Season's Begin

Today, for the first time I experienced what it is like to see, smell, and feel a dead deer. It was an 8 pt buck one of my friends from high school shot earlier today, and brought over to show my brother. Its antlers were small, and the fur a coarse but soft texture. Looking in its eyes, drained of life as they were, silenced me. I touched its fur, examined its ears, and the slight variations in the shades of brown and white intermingled together to form a pattern. He said it wasn't an easy kill, he shot it and then had to do it again, or stab it, but the thick redness beneath its cold body hadn't pooled at all. I proceeded to head back inside, after realizing his life was on my hands, and even though I hadn't been the one to shoot it, I felt that it wasnt up to me to experience his very existence like some unemotional scientist without its permission. I don't care if that seems like it doesn't make any sense. I went into the kitchen and ran the hot water over my soiled hands, rinsing off from me the essence of the buck that two minutes prior had laid limp beneath my palms. Oh, I was not in the least bit ready to face Death today.

My grandfather starts chemo tommorow, I fear today won't be the last time we'll (death) meet again before too long. Fucking cancer. This isn't fair.

Listening to "Let It Be" - The Beatles, instrumental version.