A Cat

A cat.

I wanted a cat.

A cat to quench my thirst.

But thirst for what?

The thirst for a companion, someone, something to love, to fill with the love that keeps overflowing from my body with no place to pour.

The love that searches for a spirit to fill the void of abyss in my heart, something to heal the punctured wounds of hurt I carry.

The love that settles in the pits of my stomach acid, as it quivers and welches at the dark and evil sigh of loneliness.

The love that I use to water the roots of my relationships, but sure to not drown.

But a cat, why a cat?

Well because the alternative is a man, a man for whom my heart sought to love, but with the man comes the wretched social quandary, a clash of morals.

Do not care, or ponder the thoughts of others.

How?

How do I not care, when the person of interest is your mother or father?

When the refusal of adopting a cat is more than just the cat, but the refusal of whom you love, the refusal of your life, the refusal of your happiness.

The refusal of me.

So the tears that come through my eyes and drench the clothes I wear, transforms my cloth of identity to the baggage that weighs me down.

So it is not the cat I mourn, but the freedom I am destined to lose.

For the sacrifice to be happy may cost me my life.

But for the one I love, I must trade my past, my family, my life, my loved ones.

So it comes down to the one and final dilemma.

Is the cat worth it?