I wish I can stop crying. But maybe not anytime soon. It's only about an hour since he's gone forever.
I played with the idea of losing him. Not once or twice. (Always ended up crying my eyes out)
Still. The moment I heard the news I don't cry. I have the urge to throw up. (Worse) Then cry my eyes out.
Really.
Hearing that the first thing in the morning is not good for my stomach. (Or me in general)
I've always wanted to grow old with him.
I imagined stuff like he's with me after I'm getting married and having kids. (But not really, because it turns out I've never really imagined what life would be with marriage or kids.) I imagined stuff like having him in my wedding, in my graduation, think about how to leave him when I have to study abroad; looking at him through Skype, wishing if he would look at me through the screen (because he's bad at it), or if he even recognizes me through screen.
But it turns out that none of that is happening. But that's okay too. I just wish that we will be reunited later on. After my life reached its credits as well.
Thank God for letting me... know. Preparing myself of the idea from his worsening condition.
(He was cold when I hugged him. And shivering when I left him. I should have known.)
Thank God that I'm able to do something before he actually left. I'd be devastated if he were to die in our house without me actually know what's happening. Or doing anything.
I was so very afraid. I was afraid and sad and confused. (Mostly afraid)
And it turns out that I have every reason to be afraid.
He was dying.
And I had hoped.
But it's probably better this way. You're a pretty old guy.
You are not cute. But I love you still.
(I lied. You are cute. Not the cutest in the whole universe. But you're cute enough that you're the one I love the most. The most.)
I don't know if you love me, Mitton. I'm a terrible owner, I only hope I'm not terrible at making you feel loved.
You're a good kitty. The best kitty.
See you real soon.
