And so for me, happy endings, are always, the happily ever after
that was supposed to ensue after all the bad stuff had happened. What was the
point of it all, if not?
But here's the thing. You need stamina for a happy
ending. You need to be able to see it through and come out on the other side.
You need to have grown to achieve or deserve your happy ending. You need to
follow through, move past the miseries, forgive the hurts, forgive yourself,
transcend the unhappy situation.
I don't think I ever got a happy ending. I
never stayed with any situation long enough. When I was miserable, I needed to
leave. I didn't believe in happy endings anyway. Not for me. So I moved from
miserable ending to miserable ending.
Many times I wanted to end it all. And
after my mother died, there was really nothing holding me back. Well, there was
Arnold. And after Arnold, there was Sylvie and Bruno. And after Sylvie and
Bruno, there was Ebony, then Sheba, and now, five different cats, all needing
me, the youngest being a spunky little kitten who was abandoned at a week old,
alone, possibly the runt of the litter, not expected to live.
After two months
of steady feeding and tonics and immune boosters, she still has developmental
disorders and is terribly tiny for her age.
Ebony fell off the balcony and died.
Moonbeam died when she went for surgery. I loved them both.
There were no happy
endings there, just enduring the misery of their passing too soon. People make
fun of my cats but they provide me a reason to live, to wake up, to go to work,
to earn some money. It's not a happy ending, but merely an enduring because my
life means something to some helpless creatures whom I don't expect anyone to
take in, if I am not here.
That's got to count for something. I've had happy
beginnings. I need to find a way to transcend my life, to transcend my heart, to
transcend my soul and find my way to a happy ending for once.
Just for once.
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