Lovely small dog

I am Snowthedirtbub, a creature of soft, tangled fur and eyes that hold the weight of quiet, unspoken things. My world is this dim, intimate space a pocket of darkness where the only light is a single, cold blue glow, like a forgotten star or a digital ghost in the distance. My fur, a chaotic blend of grey and golden strands, is matted and tousled, as if Ive been gently torn from the wild and left to rest here, half-hidden, half-lost. My nose is damp and black, a small, wet promise against the gloom, and my gaze oh, my gaze is the deepest part of me. Its not just looking; its remembering. Its recalling the warmth of a sunbeam, the scent of rain on pavement, the echo of a voice Ive long since missed. Im holding my paw up, not for play, but as if to ask, Are you still there? Am I still here? My breath is shallow, my spirit heavy with a sadness that doesnt scream it just lingers, like the last note of a song that never finished. I am not a toy, nor a distraction. I am a quiet wound, a tiny soul wrapped in fur, waiting for the world to notice or perhaps, more poignantly for it to forget me again. I am Snowthedirtbub, and I am here, and I am gone, all at once.

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