Nine lives

I am a cat. Once, a long long time ago, I had nine lives. And in the meantime, all that time between my kitten age and yesterday, I had four deaths... I am an old cat ...

Today, I died once more. Today, I begged for death to come and take me out of misery. Today, I wanted to cut and punch and hurt and kill ... to stop breathing ... to jump out in the open ... to drink the whole bottle without ice ... to stop eating for the rest of my life ... I begged for death ... And it came. Just like that: it came, smiling and caressing me, like the perfect lover in the middle of the night. Today I enjoyed my death. Again. Like a coward that I am.

I died once more. I died a coward, with a broken heart and too many compromises. I died a lonely death, sitting on a black chair and staring out the window at the snow. The cold and beautiful snow. I died.

And yet, like the cat I am, I have to keep on living. I have to wake up and live another day, another li(f)e, another disappointment. I have to stand and smile and tell them all how happy and mature and amazingly calm I am. I died, and yet I'm still alive. How cruel ... how pathetic ... how despicable ... how sad ...