"You used to write. You used to draw. Sing. Laugh. What happened to you?"

Life. Life happened.

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Life is cruel. It gives you joy. And then it beats you down. Robs you of the joy it first gave and when you learn to live with simple contentment, it robs you of that too.

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I grew up. I grew old. I came back because of familial loyalty and stayed because of guilt. This isn't new. And it it isn't old. It just is.

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Some people think having pets is a chore. They're dependents that tie you down with responsibilities. You don't get to go off on vacation as you like. You don't get to go off to party at all hours of the night as you like. You've got to get up and feed them by certain hours of the morn.

I don't think that's all true. Sure, they're entirely dependent on you once domesticated. But all in all, I think we get the better end of the deal.

We get unconditional love--yes, even with cats. We get a warm body who'll love us regardless of whether we smell bad, or look bad, or talk bad. We don't have them staring at us and talking down to us and guilting us into anything more than sharing that last bite of dinner with them. We don't get obscenities screamed at us at night only to forget about it without an ounce of apology the next morning. We don't get hurt beyond the loss we feel when we have to say goodbye to them.

So they aren't as mobile as other humans are.

But fuck it. I'd take a pet anytime of the day or night over a bloody human.

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Life gave me imagination. Then it ate it up and spat back out cynicalness and bitterness.

What can I say? Life's a bitch.

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Fuck people who can't take social cues but still expect others to be polite to them.

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I don't understand why people say it's a fine line between love and hate. As far as I'm concerned, there's not much of a line at all.

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I suppose it should bother me on a clinical level that I'm no longer pissed off at life. Don't get me wrong. I was angry at the world over my circumstances. But honestly, when enough shit happens all the damn time, it takes up too much energy to continue to try to fight and be angry.

Some might call it defeat. I can't argue with them.

Honestly, I'd call it defeat too.