More than anything in the world, I wanted to learn things. I wanted to learn about the things that interested me. I wanted to be good at things. Like piano. And theatre, and writing. I wanted to read everything that has ever been written. Instead of being able to learn about things that I wanted to learn about, I got to learn biology and geography. Every. Day. I rode the same city bus every day, walked down the same street to school, I went to the same classes, walked down the same street and caught the same bus home.

The only kind of pleasure I got during the day were my good classes; English, choir, and theatre. And then seeing the cat.

I felt like I wasn’t loved. Like… No one needed me. I wasn’t making a difference in anyone or anything’s life. And maybe I didn’t need to at this point in my life. I was only a freshman. But I felt like I needed to. And I wasn’t. So of course that had an affect on me.

My home life… Wasn’t the best in the world. Dad was gone, Mom was single, working, and taking care of three kids. It was hard. I was always stressed. Then with the frustration of not being able to learn what I wanted to, and feeling like I wasn’t really loved or needed wasn’t helping.

I had cut myself before. It wasn’t a new thing. But I had stopped for a while. Then with everything going on… I started doing it again. For some reason it made me feel better. There’s no explaining it.

The morning after I had started cutting again, I was on my way to school. I was on the same street that I walked every day. But then I cat sauntered out in front of me. I was an animal lover, so I bent down to pet it. It rubbed its head on me and wove in between my legs. I then decided to see if it would let me pick it up. I slowly went to pick it up, murmuring to it softly that I wasn’t going to hurt it. It hopped into my arms and started purring. I stayed like that for a few minutes. Just sitting there and stroking the purring cat. I put it down apologizing that I had to go. I left, went to school, went home, made dinner, cut myself, and went to bed. This became a daily routine.

Seeing cats had also become routine. Every morning on my way to school I would see a different cat outside on the sidewalk on the same street I walked every day. One cat was a tabby, one was orange, another was pure white. Yet another was all black with little white socks. Then one was a kind of brindle color. I loved all of them. So much. They were the best part of my day.

One morning, I was wondering how there were so many cats on this street. Then I wondered… What if it was the same cat? At that moment the black cat with the white socks walked out to me. Slowly it changed to all the cats I had seen in the past few weeks. I asked myself why it would do that. The cat very calmly said, “Because you needed to realize you were loved, and needed. Are you hurting yourself anymore?” I shook my head, no. “Now you’ve also learned something. I love you, and I need you.” I understood. I picked it up, walked home, and stayed home that day taking care of Cat.

Everyday after that was better. I had my ever-changing Cat to show me that I was loved, always, no matter what.