Somber Thoughts While Packing
I'm flying to Utah tomorrow. Well, that's the plan anyway. I've been semi-freaking out all day: What if I can't get through security, what if there's bad weather and my flight gets cancelled, what if my e-ticket e-explodes and they refuse to let me on, what if what if what if. Strangely, I'm not at all worried about the plane crashing or nonsense like that. If that's how I die, then there it is; I want to die in a fiery explosion anyway. (A little morbid for you? I'll be flying to Denver on United 491, then to Salt Lake on United 391 - scan the news for those numbers, if you like. THAT's morbid.)
I found out tonight that my cat will probably have to be euthanized. The bloodwork comes back on Friday, and if she has diabetes, like the vet suspects, then my mom has decided to put her down. There's no sense in putting that much care and money into an old, sick animal. But this was the cat who'd curl up in bed with me on those terrible summer nights when I'd crawl shaking into bed, utterly inconsolable. She's soft and beautiful, and she has such a big personality, and I love her. I'll miss her; I don't even know how to say goodbye. I tried holding her a little bit, but she wanted to explore the house. She doesn't know that she could be gone soon. I guess to her it doesn't really matter.
Right now I just feel slightly ill. Tired of worrying, tired of feeling, just tired. These are the times that I most want to be a vagabond, owning little, wandering about from town to town and country to country. That's no life, though; I'd never make any friends, and the ones I have now would move on and only remember me in dusky stillnesses - my name coming to them suddenly, in the middle of another thought that had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with me.
I don't run, though, no matter how much of a coward I wish I could be. I wish I could give it all up, say that it's too hard for me, and just keep moving around so nothing sticks - because it's easier that way, with nothing to care about. Thoreau would be proud of me, though I'd be travelling by car, and I don't know how proud he'd be of that. But I have to care about all of this and more, I have to keep slogging through school, keep working a menial job just to pay the bills, keep studying til I want to cry from frustration, keep meeting people and meeting and meeting, and keep hoping. Just keep hoping.
I found out tonight that my cat will probably have to be euthanized. The bloodwork comes back on Friday, and if she has diabetes, like the vet suspects, then my mom has decided to put her down. There's no sense in putting that much care and money into an old, sick animal. But this was the cat who'd curl up in bed with me on those terrible summer nights when I'd crawl shaking into bed, utterly inconsolable. She's soft and beautiful, and she has such a big personality, and I love her. I'll miss her; I don't even know how to say goodbye. I tried holding her a little bit, but she wanted to explore the house. She doesn't know that she could be gone soon. I guess to her it doesn't really matter.
Right now I just feel slightly ill. Tired of worrying, tired of feeling, just tired. These are the times that I most want to be a vagabond, owning little, wandering about from town to town and country to country. That's no life, though; I'd never make any friends, and the ones I have now would move on and only remember me in dusky stillnesses - my name coming to them suddenly, in the middle of another thought that had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with me.
I don't run, though, no matter how much of a coward I wish I could be. I wish I could give it all up, say that it's too hard for me, and just keep moving around so nothing sticks - because it's easier that way, with nothing to care about. Thoreau would be proud of me, though I'd be travelling by car, and I don't know how proud he'd be of that. But I have to care about all of this and more, I have to keep slogging through school, keep working a menial job just to pay the bills, keep studying til I want to cry from frustration, keep meeting people and meeting and meeting, and keep hoping. Just keep hoping.
posted by juxtaposer at 10:56 PM
2 Comments:
I'm getting turning point vibes-
Life is hard , but remember all the good times. Winter had a good life.
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