More Thoughts on Loneliness

I am quite tired, as you can tell from the post's published time.
But there's just a little more that I want to get off my chest, after having finished the last post. Sort of like a follow-up.

Love is a vague term. I love my car differently than I love my cats than I love a girl. My cats, whom this post will focus, are the closest to my heart. My heart does have space reserved for a girl, for a proper relationship, but she could never take the place of my cats.
     I have 5 cats. Right now, 3 of them are sleeping on my bed. That's partly why I'm not in bed, because I don't fit without moving them. I can't, though, they're just so cute.
     They're so fuzzy. So sweet. So calming.

They can make my day better or worse, but usually better. They can run away from me, or come to me when they want. They can keep me warm. But mostly they can be picked up, and held.

I can hold them in my arms several times a day. This is what keeps me okay. This is what has kept me okay for years of loneliness.

They don't ask for much; they're cats. Cats are mostly independent creatures. But since they're domestic animals, they do come back for food and water and a litter box and a cozy place to sleep.

This point is rather obvious, but they don't judge (as most animals don't). The relevance lies in their capacity to bring comfort, no matter who you are, what you are, and what you do. They don't preconceive opinions about you like people do, they just... like your company.

Cats are the best kind of company. I can budge them out of the way, just enough, and they'll still stay. Or get annoyed and leave, depending on which of my cats. One I can cuddle with the most; one, not so much.

They all "meow" differently, and I love how each is different. I like to mimic them. Like, talk to them. Most of them will respond. They'll come just to be petted. Or to be let out, or let in, or to ask to refill the food bowl, etc. But there is an inherent sweetness in their voice that I never cease to ignore. It's the greatest sound to me; a cat's meow. Other cat noises are nice too, purring being the next big one. And there on my bed, as I pet one of them, that's what I hear. The soft vibration of a small furry animal who enjoys being petted.

And as a small sidenote, that's why I have also always enjoyed touching a girl's hair. Not because I expect her to purr, but because I just like the feeling against my hand. Silky hair or not, it doesn't matter, I just like stroking hair. It calms me down. It's relaxing.

But that's what's often missing. A girl's hair to be appreciated, and a girl to love for everything about her. The moments, the quiet moments when, well, literally petting her hair is appropriate and enjoyable are the little treasures in my life. If I could make her happy, and if she could fall asleep in my arms, I would be happy to an extent words can't describe.


Cats, though, my cats are always here. I can come home, and by the end of the day, I'll have a friend, a close friend, to pick up, hold in my arms, pet, and fall asleep with. That may be an odd request for a significant other, but if she really is, it wouldn't be odd at all.