I hung out my laundry between meetings today. one of the ginger cats was watching from the fence, where they usually sit with their friend to judge my technique. this time the cat slunk down into our yard. I crouched and offered my hand. at first cautious, the cat welcomed the attention, circling me with its tail, falling into my strokes and sprawling content on the pavement. the fur was soft and charged with the warmth of the sun from a yard less obscured by branches. I thought of the cat I grew up with and missed home.
some nights when I’m alone I try to watch a movie, but I can never tell if I like the film - even if I know it’s good. this isn’t a problem when I’m experiencing a movie with someone else. can I not muster my own opinions independent of those around me? am I so dependent on the validation of others that I can’t even speak to my own thoughts and feelings? does this matter in the scheme of how many children die tonight?
I zoom out as soon as I face an uncomfortable reflection. I am a fraud but the planet’s on fire. nothing matters from such a distance. I take the easy way out.
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