The love of my life is gay.
The second love of my life is dying…
…but only because we all are.
The third love of my life is also dying.
I know he’s a cat, but he’s MY cat. He’s just under twelve years old. He’s been through so much with me. Let’s go through the bad things I can recall at this moment, in no particular order, since that’s what we’re here for, right?
- The guy I dated the longest, (prior to my gay ex-boyfriend/soul mate/love of my life up to that point, and the man I thought I might marry), told me I shouldn’t adopt him and his twin brother. Don’t care why. Later that year when he broke up with me and broke my heart, I never needed my kittwins more. I cried on my Dad’s shoulder for so long that night. You know. My Dad who is no longer alive. I thought the guy wanted to marry me. He didn’t.
- Law school. Enough said.
- Preparing for, and passing, two Bar Exams, one of which is considered the second hardest in the nation (second to California, for those who care).
- Addiction. To everything which I’ll admit.
- Cutting. Lots and lots of careful, and painful, and extreme cutting.
- Abandonment when I moved in with the second love of my life, leaving him behind with his twin brother for nearly five years.
- Hating myself.
- My Dad dying.
- The second love of my life killing me, still, right this second, over, and over, and over, every second of every day.
- Getting sexually assaulted at work.
- Getting raped.
- My hate for myself.
- Him getting his own death sentence.
- Hopefully tomorrow.
I used to LOVE this time of year; the week after Daylight Savings Time used to bring me instant joy in the form of more light than dark in the evening.
I, probably like many people, enjoy the lengthier daylight.
The night can be scary. So scary. For so many reasons.
Last night I slept selfishly.
Protecting my baby boy has become priority number one for me.
If that means keeping two to three other cats away throughout the night, then that’s what it means. (That’s what it means.)
I mean, look at him:
So I don’t sleep much these days.
For his death.
Oh. And. My ex’s Mom texted me this weekend (on her birthday). It really messed me up. How much can a person take?
I have a feeling I’m about to find out.