I actually don't want to write about this, because I'm such a weakling. Writing this will only bring me to tears. But I need to. I need to straighten out everything that's been cluttering inside my head. I need to because I need closure.
So a few days ago, I found out my sweetheart was injured, rather badly, on his right cheek. There was a big gash just under his mouth; you could see the red flesh and the pink jaw as clear as day. Fuck. The moment I saw it, I felt so enraged I felt like throwing things around the house. I was so heartbroken.
I already cried for ten minutes when I told someone about him. Most of the time, I just didn't want to acknowledge anything. Since then, the only thing I managed to do, without crying, is to care for him. I bathe him every day. He scratched my arm, but I don't care. His wound smells bad it attracts flies, but I don't care. He can no longer eat as much, but I don't care I still pour food for him.
He's such a stubborn little fella, too. He knows he's sick, but he still struggles to munch at least one or two pieces of the cereal I pour for him -- if I am there to see him through it. He still runs to me, with all his heart, whenever I call him. He refuses to believe his injury is a bad one, because he still is the same ol' playful kitty.
I don't know how much longer he can pull through. There's a part of me that believes he can make it, but another part just wants to succumb to the fact that he's dying. I don't know. I'm not strong enough to even think about it. If this ends, I just want him to be happy. And I'll do whatever I can to ensure that.