Today, as I was walking home, I saw a kitten. Her pitiful mew interrupted the writing of this post, ironically enough. Me being that animal type, I stopped and offered my finger for her to sniff, in hopes that I could take her somewhere safe. The cold, wet, coyote-ridden street was no place for a young kitten like her. She gazed at me for a second, then, to my pleasure, came over and rubbed her head against my hand. As I went to pick her up, she ran. I followed, hoping uselessly to get her home. But he sniffed me again, and then was ready to hop a fence. I backed off, knowing I wouldn't tame her, and that it would look very weird for someone driving by to see a girl with a laptop petting a kitten in their driveway. I wished her well and went on with my journey. She got me to thinking though.
How many times have I wished I was a bird? Too many to count. We are all trying to survive, mentally at least. We use things like politics and happiness to cover up how badly we are at this task. Some children are petty, the reason being that if they make fun of others, it hides that they aren't surviving as well. They decided they can skip class because they are good enough for that. Too good, it would appear, to be hurting inside. But the sad truth is we're all fighting battles, and some of us are losing. But we continue on our journey. We are all striving for that one goal. My question for you is, who are you fighting for? What are your reasons for surviving?
My wondering led me here, to home, where I typed this. And now I don't wonder so much why people do what they do. They, like you and I, are simply hurting. And all this, from a tiny, one-eyed cat?
