i lied to you. i did. i was not working hard to forget you, i was working hard to forget me. months later i get on a jet needing distance. at the door to my flat am reminded of what i keep leaving behind. i keep forgetting me, and then i forget that i forgot, and work even harder to just forget: me.
it is a mad cat. i wanted a horse and ended up with a cat. i pick it up, and we go to the balcony. i squint and can not see. i feel it purring snug in my arms.
it was night. the freaking cat does not forget me. each and every time, i leave it behind. i stay away for months on end. the cat does not forget and each and every time, it is a ritual. it loves the warmth, any warmth, even my warmth; it purrs and purrs. i watch across the city at my feet. it is just the cat that does not forget me. high above the crowds, in the night, on a balcony, the cat and me, we forget.
you reminded me of existence. you reminded me of being human. you reminded me that i had left the cat. the cat has not been left alone. the cat does not cares about my presence in the flat. the cat does not care, it purrs.
