Raccoon is a very special person. She has a big heart, but has a penchant for getting into asinine and feral fights. What really connects her to the Raccoon is because she is also a total kleptomaniac. She finds, she steals, she store. She fights, she fakes remorsefulness, she does it again. Her is a story about Raccoon when we first moved in together. Our other roommate has been dubbed Hedgehog because she’s quick prickly until you get to know her.
I feel anxious. I was forced to deal with a close friend’s drama that could ultimately affect me; however, the fundamental and extreme real concern is for her. I’m terrified for Raccoon. I’m afraid if she doesn’t see this as perhaps not necessarily a “rock bottom,” at the very least a significant wake up call, she’s going to obliterate all the good she’s started building in her life. This should be a figurative slap to the face versus a dash of cold water. If she would just stop being so damn self-destructive. I know–I’m one to talk.
Raccoon has so much to offer. She’s just been tormented by the world and came out a little fucked up. She’s the feral dog Hedgehog stumbled upon who connected with her one human, but God forbid anyone else approach. She’s the embodiment of my parents’ dog Ace: deceptively cute, but to most vicious. He seems so sweet sometimes: “Oh pet me, pet me! I love you so much!” BITE! Such a little dick. But you can’t help but love him and try your best to keep him out of situations where he might react negatively.
I’m hoping Hedgehog and my presence might be able to help her, but there are certain disconnects in Raccoon’s brain. I think she wants people to like her so desperately, but she doesn’t truly like anyone else except Hedgehog. I don’t trust her. She got fucked up on God knows what and tried to booty call our landlord’s boyfriend. Seriously. We’re either getting kicked out of this house, dying, or wondering how the hell we survived.
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