Rest in Peace, Dali.

Tonight, I found out one of my pet terrapins died.

His name was Dali. He was a tiny terrapin. It grew quite slowly.
I used to keep the terrapins in my room but my dad insisted I put it outside.

I realized that I neglected them since they were outside.
I couldn't really take care of them. I wasn't sure if it had been fed or not. Or we were overfeeding them. I had no idea.

I neglected them and wallowed in my own sorrows.

This afternoon, my mom told me to change the water.
I shrugged it off, telling her I'd do it later.

My sister also told me that my nephew just overfed them, dirtying the water.
Having no net, I shrugged it off also.

I failed to notice the oil covering the water.

A few days ago, they were both fine.
I told my dad that they were running out of the food.

He got some.

It wasn't the same one. I protested and told him to return it and get the other one they're used to.

But he insisted.

So I fed them, scared they wouldn't like it.

I realized that they seemed to not eat it as enthusiastically.
I failed to notice the oil buildup.

I used to clean (while they were still in my room) the tank once every two days because they had no oxygen tank. Dad promised to get one.

It was too late.

Now that they were outside, and me battling my depression, I neglected them.

If only I had realized sooner that there was oil buildup.

So when I decided to change the water tonight, I realized Alice was on top of Dali and that doesn't happen often.

Only after I transferred Alice to the new water change, there was oil from her body.
I got so shocked.

I saw Dali didn't stir, and it floated.
I feared the worst.

I picked up Dali.

....and Dali...

He was dead.


Dali, the one that I own, was dead.

It was limp. Its head easily moved to the side.
I panicked.

I screamed.

My sister got out.
My brother got out.

I panicked. I kept trying to wake Dali up.

I kept trying to coax it back alive.

I tried to give it clean water. Tried to make it open its eyes and mouth.
But he was too limp.

But it was too late.

Dali was already gone.

And as I'm writing this, I still can't stop crying.

Dali. Dali.

I'm so sorry.

I was too caught up in my own pain that I neglected your pain.

My older sister put him on a plastic bag.

But I didn't want it to dry up.
Still hoping it's alive.

I separated Alice and Dali.

I put clean water in another tank. I put Dali on the rocks.
So that he can still "breathe" yet not be "dry".

I'm silently praying for a miracle to happen.

My other pet kitten already disappeared, just last week.
Mong Mong.

Maybe it passed away too.


To have another pet pass away.

I can't.

I can't take it.
I can't breathe.

To see its body, so limp, so lifeless.

I thought to myself, "Why not me? Why not me who has sinned? Why such an innocent pet?"

Dali brought me joy last year.
Having them in my room was fun.
When I cried, when my ex hurt me a lot, I had Dali to cry to. And Alice too.

I wanted to name Dali after my ex, but he told me not to.
Thinking about that now, I ask God, "Is this your answer for me? To move on? Is this your way of saying 'He's dead'? But why take Dali away?"

Why Dali.

I still thought having them outside was wrong. I shouldn't have agreed to put them outside.


Dali, I'm so sorry.
Please forgive me.

I don't know who I'm angriest at.
Myself?
My dad?
Or my nephew?


And just today, my niece wanted to have a competition about whose terrapin would grow bigger faster. I retorted with "That's not fair!! My terrapins have always been small!!"

.....and now Dali is dead.
Of course Dali won't grow anymore.

Dali is dead.

Dali, my pet terrapin is dead.


I can't stop crying.

For my dad to just say that I'm overreacting, and that it's just a pet that can be replaced.
I said "You're so mean!!!"

Yes, pets can be replaced.

But Dali can't be replaced.

Dali is Dali. Dali was Dali.

Dali was my pet.

Dali will always be my pet terrapin.

I'm so sorry Dali.
I loved you, I'm sorry I neglected you.

Please come back to life.



Rest in Peace, Dali.

I love you.

Please forgive me.

-Nisah-