I have big ears. Some of the humans say that they are like Dumbo’s ears. Dumbo was an elephant. He had big ears too and his could make him fly. I use mine for listening. Did you know that dogs can remember up to 250 words? Yup. I don’t know that many but I know quite a few.

The word they have all been talking about lately is FOMO. My humans say that I have a bad case of FOMO because I need to be everywhere and see what’s going on. FOMO is a short word for a four other words. It means Fear Of Missing Out.

When my Dad feeds the kitty, I am there to check that he does it properly. FOMO. When anyone goes to into the bathroom, I go with in case they need my protection. FOMO. When my Gogo sorts out the washing, I’m there to help by taking the socks outside. FOMO. When the phone rings, I have to bark and run to get there first and sit and wait while my humans answer it. FOMO. When one of my humans picks up their keys, I bark and spin around and run to the door and then around to the side gate to watch and see that they got into their car okay. FOMO. When we go to the park and my Dad puts me on my leash, I have to run ahead and pull him to show him where we must go because of where all the other puppies are. FOMO. When one of my humans comes home from the shops, I run to the front door to see if they bought a new squeaky toy for me or more Beeno’s or something for the kitty that they want me to taste first. FOMO.

And when me and my Dad go to sleep at night, I put my head on the pillow just like my Dad does. If that makes him have nice dreams, then I want to have the same too. FOMO.

I don’t mind having FOMO. Because when it comes down to it, YOLO.

My name is Finn. FOMO Finn.


Glittery sparks and reflections pulse through the hollow muscle in repeated, rhythmic contractions. This kapŏlă is life. Its hurting hurls a numbness into the tunnels it’s meant to keep alive. Spaces have been emptied and replaced in ways that aren’t so different from what they looked like before.

I am not sore.

I just feel like that last meal is coming back to the fore.

Light dances off the phosphorous because of those moving ships in the night while their enigmas hang back in the darkness below their hulls. Hollow is the answer for how we handle when the harmony isn’t home. The lights are on but the soul is gone.

I am not sore.

I just feel like spite is something I never really understood before.

My head bursts into the space above the surface and I feel oxygen make a comeback. It’s a pretty important substance – for the atmosphere and I. I used to be in love with love, with the hurt that went with the end of it and the romantic dramas that abound in the rebound.

And now?

I’m not so sure.

But I’m not sore.

I just feel like you should go talk to your friends… talk to my friends… talk to me… but we are… well you know how that ends.

© Dylan Balkind