me to let go of. sure, there are one or two i cling to. my journal. my guitar. my sketch books. yet with all that, if i had to leave it tomorrow, i’d manage better than i’m managing right now in bringing my cat back to the human family i adopted her from.
queen of all, and she knows it.
she chirps, runs through the apartment at odd hours of the night and day, and does all other manner of cat things perched atop her cat tree. including, just this moment, sleeping with her eyes half open, staring at me from the very top platform.
and i’m crying again. this was supposed to 