I wish my cat liked me. I wish she lit up and meowed when she heard me call her name. I wish she ran to me in the morning or even just entered a room. I wish she climbed up onto the couch or my desk chair or the dining room table to sit with me, or on me.
I wish she purred in my lap, rumbling away contentedly. I wish she sat curled up on my chest or my butt, absurd in her placement because she wants to be as close to me as she can. I wish my cat liked me enough to put up with being pet and poked and prodded and stroked.
I wish my cat liked me the way my dog liked me. I wish my cat was more like a dog, the best of both worlds. I wish there was a way to bring back my childhood dog, but she has been ash for weeks now and dead for over a month.
I wish things could go back to how they were and become unchanged again. I wish my parents were not divorcing. I wish my brother did not have to find a job. I wish I did not have to sacrifice my mental health and sanity in order to “afford” “rent”. I wish I did not have to pay rent.
I wish the state of things would become so that I could be up at a natural waking time each morning and decide what I will do over a large mug of rapidly cooling, vaguely cinnamon tea. I wish I could stare out my window for hours until the sun reflecting green off the leaves sears my eyes. I wish I could lie prone on the floor, twisting this way and that whenever and however I please.
I wish I could cook whatever dish comes to mind, unworried because of the commonality of the mistakes I will make. I wish I could bake and walk door to door offering brownies fresh from the oven! Please try one? My name’s Toyosi—happy to meet you!
I wish I could sit up from the throes of depression and decide to rearrange my room, to put my bed there, no, there? Maybe I’ll try it out, just for a few days, and just see how I like it…
I wish I could pull out my vacuum, tall and corded, to do a deep-clean of my roomapartment, sucking up dirt and dust and crumbs and hair and fur and scraps of wholly dead skin that drift off me in my sleep. I wish I could take out my trash and puff on my CBD pen along the way, enjoying the humid suck of sunlight on my skin. I wish I could clean my bathroom while wearing garish-colored gloves, headphones pulled down over my ears as I dance my way from task to task.
I wish I could invite others over, say I bought some pink gin from Sainsby’s the other day, how about we crack it open? And maybe watch a movie, since I’ve got my monitor set up, too.
I wish I could say, Yeah, of course! I can even have you stay with me, if you like? I only have a blow-up bed, or maybe the futon? Whichever you prefer, really, it’s no problem.
I wish I could say Yeah, she’s really gentle, just don’t bug her too much, y’know? Cats are so different from dogs, but she’s getting used to all my bothering, I think. Slowly but surely.
I wish I could say, Hm? Oh, bathroom’s the door marked with the photo of Jimin from BTS on it without that twisting, anxious fear of my hookup running into someone who would be a stranger to them and practically is a stranger to me.
I wish I could turn all of the lights off, light my roomapartment with nothing but incense and candles and tealights and humidifiers and air purifiers and nightlights that color the ceiling in a galaxy dotted with green stars. I wish I could lie beneath those green stars, on my back or my stomach—it wouldn’t matter which, but my cat would lie on my chest or my butt, because she likes me.