Delmar wraps around my feet, Monika stretches at a crazy angle on the floor, and I hesitate to mention them for fear that I'm turning into someone who has nothing better to do than write about my cats.
When Mom died, we put her house up for sale, but the thought did cross my mind: I could live here. And if I had, I would have inherited not just Monika but all of Mom's cats, and probably the dog, too, and of course, I would have brought Delmar with me. The temptation was there; I could have actually owned my own place, and finally moved beyond my status as lifetime renter.
But that would have meant moving back to Perry, finding a different job, restarting my life. And more, it carried with it the knowledge that I would probably cocoon myself within those walls, animals my only companions, my life essentially over.
I stayed where I was, but really, what have I got to show for it? When Tabbatha broke up with me, she told me that if I searched my heart, I'd find that my feelings for her weren't truly romantic. But they were. Maybe I didn't convey it properly, or maybe--ah hell, it doesn't matter. It's over, and instead of the life I wanted with her, I have...this. The inertia of my life is stupefying, but it's all I have right now.
I live day by day, never really enjoying anything, just kind of taking up space, existing to no purpose. One of these days that may change, I may break from this simply out of neccessity, but until then, Delmar is still at my feet, Monika has curled up atop the TV, and they're the only things that matter right now.
