The kitty asks for food…

The kitty asks for food. He wants to eat, right now. It’s only 5.25AM. I don’t know if he’ll let me finish this post, or if he will insist until I’ve fed him. I’m trying not to feed him until 6 o’clock, so that he gets used to it and doesn’t wake us up too early. But today I can’t sleep.

In these past months I’ve had my own emotional turmoil. I guess this was the reason why I stopped writing here. Depression grabbed me, and I couldn’t get free of it. I had to fight my way through it, just to be able to keep moving. I’ve been spending all my energies in keeping myself up and running.

I didn’t feel like writing. At least, not in a calm, orderly and thoughtful fashion.

It comes from a long way away, from those days when I started taking my blue pills of hormones. Today I can try to point out why this happened to me. I thought it was because of the girl, because I fell in love; but now I think it is more likely that it has to do with my own emotional fragility, my own vulnerability to some of the things that we usually face every day.

Too cryptic, maybe?

I’ve got a lot of writing to do. And I don’t believe this all fits in a single post.

In the meantime, the kitty insists. All right, I think. I put some of his food in his bowl. Now he goes back to bed, to cuddle up with my girl. At least, I got some quiet to write.

It feels nice to have my own space here. I’ve been missing this a lot.

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