the grief is so bad tonight. i’ve been crying for hours. i miss my cat so much. she’s been gone for almost half a year now, and i just… can’t fathom it. this was a reality i tried so hard to avoid for so long, an idea that i couldn’t even bring myself to think about, and i’ve been living in it for almost 6 months now. i hate it. it still feels like i’m sitting in the parking lot of the animal hospital. i don’t think i ever left. i don’t know if i can. zeva was the only family i really had, the only person who made me feel safe and wanted in this household, the only person who i was certain loved me, and now she’s gone. she never accused me of faking my mental illnesses because i’m ‘not crazy enough’, she never got mad at me for not going to school, or changing my name, or wanting attention. she never judged or hurt me. she brought me so much comfort whenever my parents got into one of their screaming matches or my mother had one of her breakdowns (like earlier today). it scared her just as much as it scared me, and we comforted each other through it. she was the only one who understood and flinched and hid alongside me, and now i’m alone. i don’t feel comfortable in this household without her.
i can still barely bring myself to look at photos or videos of her. memories of her don’t bring me any joy; they bring unbearable agony because that shouldn’t be all that’s left of her. photos, videos, memories and an urn. that’s all i have of her now. i want her back. i want her alive. i don’t want her at the rainbow bridge or in heaven or the void or wherever the hell animals go when they die, i want her here, and i know that’s selfish because she was in pain and struggling to breathe by the end, but she was still zeva. she was still her. she could be the most mangled cat on the ****ing planet and i would still want her. there will never be a part of me that’s happy or relieved about any of this. i will never be certain that putting her to sleep was the right decision. the surgery might’ve worked. it might’ve worked and given us more time with her, and we’ll never know. even if she died during the surgery, that still would’ve been 25 more days with her, and i want those days more than anything. hell, i just want another minute. i just want to pet her and sit with her for one more minute. i’d do anything. i go to bed every night and hope that i’ll see her in my dreams, that she’ll finally come back for me, but i never do, and she never does. i don’t think she’s coming.
every person i meet who has or has had a cat that lived to be older than 11 fills me with pure, irrational rage because that should’ve been her. she should’ve been one of those cats who made it to their 20’s, and i am so ****ing angry that she wasn’t. i am so ****ing angry that she’s what taught my mom a lesson, that she’s what made her understand what overfeeding, not playing with, or delaying taking a cat to the vet can lead to. i am so ****ing angry that she’s the example. i should’ve tried harder. i failed her.
i am so tired of having to tell people that i’m okay, that i’m hanging in there, when i’m not. i have not been okay since november 1st, and i don’t think i ever will be again. literally nothing matters to me anymore. life lost all meaning for me when she died, and now it’s just some weird, dull, surreal grey version of what it used to be. i try to do things i think will make me happy; i smoke weed, i go outside, i talk to my friends, i buy amiibo cards and other things i like, but none of it’s enough because it’s not her. any joy i’ve felt in the last 6 months has been watered down by grief. new purchases have not been as exciting, food has not tasted as good, sicknesses and rough patches have not been as easy to get through and media has not been as entertaining to consume as it would’ve been if she were alive.
i can barely stand to be around alize most days, and i hate myself for it. it’s not fair. it’s not fair to her because she is the sweetest, cuddliest, cutest bug, and i can’t give her the love she deserves because she’s not zeva. i’m supposed to be her cat mom, she’s supposed to be mine, and i’m not. she’s not. i do not find her following me everywhere or her curiosity or her meowing outside my door and the bathroom door as endearing as i should. cuddling or spending time with her feels more like an obligation, a chore, something i have to do instead of something i want to do. i do not love her as much as my parents do. i wasn’t ready for her, not in november, and not now. i love her so much, but sometimes i feel like i’m only saying that to convince myself i do instead of actually meaning it. she deserves so much better, i don’t deserve to feel like this, and i don’t know what to do.
i have no desire to talk to my friends or pretend to tolerate my parents or graduate high school or take care of myself or engage in my hobbies or exist or do anything. i just want my cat.