cat fail
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Houston, we have a problem…
shaking six year old me by the shoulders YOU WERE RIGHT. YOU WERE RIGHT ABOUT LOVE AND ABOUT FAIRNESS AND ABOUT SHARING IS CARING. YOU WERE RIGHT. THE ADULTS DON’T KNOW ANY MORE ABOUT TRUTH THAN YOU DO. KEEP BELIEVING IN THE FAIRIES AT THE BOTTOM OF THE GARDEN. NOTHING IS “JUST THE WAY IT IS”. I AM SORRY THEY EVER CONVINCED YOU TO FEEL SHAME. YOU ARE REAL AND A PART OF THIS WORLD. YOU WERE RIGHT.
Calvin and Hobbes - It’s July Already
“Excuse me human in case you forgot the treats are right here.”
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Interspecies communication in action.
I want to take pictures of you all the time, I like looking at you being you, I have the biggest (friend?) crush on you, I just want to hold your hand, I just want you to be happy, I forget about the inevitability of death for a bit when I’m around you, but now I do and I feel like crying a little bit, I want you in my life forever in any shape or form, do you want to run away with me? we can go to this walkable city that I like, filled with all kinds of people cuz I know you like interesting characters, and you can go and do everything you want and I’ll do the same and we’ll come home at night and tell each other about our adventures and retire to separate rooms. I want to see you bloom and flourish and maybe in the process of everything, I, too, will bloom and flourish. I want you to tell me that I’m good, as if you haven’t already chose me. I’m scared that you’ll regret your decision and sometimes I spend my time trying to not let you down. I’m so scared of disappointing you. I wish you would look at me the way that I see you. I wish you would hold out your hand. I wish you would let me lean on you and you on me. I wish you could see past the physical and connect with my soul. I want you all to myself but also I want us to be free.
You: what are we?
On Monday, I told you that I have feelings for you, feelings that I don’t have a name for. I guess I like you? But not in the way like lovers typically do. I just want to hold your hand, and hug you sometimes.
You: I know, I could sense that.
Me: I know you knew.
On Friday, in a car ride with you, you said to the driver, “In an alternate universe, she and I would be dating.”
On Saturday, you ran into an old friend while we were out, and you said to them, “btw we are DATING”. “Oh really?!” they responded, unsure whether to believe you or not. We danced to the music on our own, occasionally turning to smile at each other. It was so dark, except for the lights on stage. If we held hands, no one would notice, no one would see us. Would that be okay with you? Would that be okay with me?
Maybe next time, I’ll have the courage to ask.
My body on yours on a drunken Saturday night. My fingers, long, quick on the typewriter keys. My omniscience fading away, a shattered and impotent illusion. The sound of my own heart speeding up, then slowing down. And behind it all, your voice. Nothing but the tone of it, but full of meaning.
Kevin McGowin, from “A Moving On”, pub. Oyster Boy Review (1997)
*runs into an overt pessimist determined to tear down whatever small joy I cling to* Okay doomer
“The gang is eagerly awaiting dinnertime”
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