and I just can’t commit to journaling. I know I should. I know I forget things. And yet – there’s some giant barrier of “this feels like too much work” or just plain i forget.
What’s happened recently? The cat died. I’m heartbroken and I miss her and she was such a sweet, wonderful creature and I can’t believe she’s gone. And she didn’t have to die. I feel like a bunch of things went wrong and this little creature’s life was the price of it. I feel like our life was good, and now it’s all gone to shit. For some reason “life was good” when Cleo was alive. Nevermind the sister with the stage 4 breast cancer. Nevermind the business tanking in supreme nosedive fashion. At least we had a happy family of 4. Now there’s 3, and I just feel so sad, so often. I know grief isn’t linear. I know it’s meant to feel awful but I’ve never felt this alone. Or rather I have, but it’s been a long time. I finally felt like life was pretty sorted and then this happens and suddenly I feel like my friends aren’t good friends, my home isn’t a happy home, and my life is a giant disappointment. All over a damned cat.
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