The Horse Is Mine

It's silly. The urge to fight somebody I don't know because of a horse. It's strange to be mature enough to understand that you're being possessive but a huge part of you also just wants to bring this unknown girl down into the mud and establish dominance and say: "No touching that horse. I trained him. I made him the wonderful non-off-throwing beautiful creature he is today."

Do I own him?

No.

Do I feel the urge to spend all my money buying him and flying him home because I can't share a stupid horse?

Yes. Yes, I do.

He was a dick when I first met him or maybe just misunderstood. He saw another horse throw off his rider and run home and the next day he did the same. He threw off the same lady twice which made her proclaim she never wanted to ride horses again, he ran over a cattle grid and was a nervous horse in general. He was the kind of horse you call a one person horse. At the end of the summer I switched horses with a guest, because her horse proved to be too strong for the skills she had claimed to have had. So she got my Moli. And he followed me like a dog while I was on the other horse. I couldn't help but be beaming with pride. And then this other girl comes after I leave and loves him too. And I wanna throw a tantrum. And it's stupid, because I am not 9 years old and we can try to share him. It would actually be less heartbreaking if he had become such a good horse that customers could use him instead. Jealousy is a green eyed monster that's for sure and I'm always the one who backs down from a fight. But maybe not this time. Maybe this time it's time that 9 year old me pulls some tricks. Manipulates. Or maybe sees who he seeks out. No, that's too risky. I must find a horse that the other girl likes and figure out a way to make her love that one more, so I can go back to having my own horse. Who's not my horse. Except he is. And I'm freaking 9 years old and possessive.