(no subject)

So yesterday, I told my mom that I hate my brain because I keep finding new ways to guilty for not saving Gus.

She explained in detail how smoke inhalation works, that for a cat his size, with his bad lungs, it happened quickly.

I said, "So I was standing outside on the grass when he died."

Mom then gave me a list of worse outcomes for me, had I stayed to look:

1. Losing consciousness and being without air long enough to cause brain damage
2. Being trapped in a burn unit
3. Losing consciousness and dying

It doesn't really make me feel better, but I know it helps my family. They've told me often enough.

We also discussed how I can find closure, and we've decided to take a trip to the ocean in about a month, to release a biodegradable box or something, with the last picture I took of him and something I'll write between now and then. I feel slightly better, at least.

Also, I'm coughing more now, instead of less.