And so it is...

And so it has come to this… the rocky roads and the sleepless nights, old memories, new homes and in all of this chaos I have discovered that I lost myself somewhere between trying to understand the difference between love and lust and loneliness and purchasing my new vacuum. I am not a domesticated housecat. I can tell by the way you look at me that you believed me when I said I was happy. Now I am telling you, indirectly, read between the fucking lines. I AM NOT HAPPY. I don’t know how to spell it out for you. The irony of it all is that your ignorance to my subtlety is driving me crazy, but I do not have the strength to say any of this to your face.
I want to take my son and go. We are not like you. We are the Vikings, the pillagers of villages and young women. We imagine and create and survive. I am not part of you or your countless efforts to conform. Domestic beer, domestic cats, domestic woman, bird, car… it is all the same to you. You and yours… mine and ours. The difference lies in my need to discover things unknown to me. To teach strength and perseverance, loyalty and understanding in a straw hut on a beach in fucking Thailand… and the only thing stopping me is you.