| Dear God,
I don't believe in you. And if I did, if I do, the only thing I believe about you is that you're a cold-hearted son of a bitch man. As you know, I had an allergy test today. Of course, I found out officially that I'm allergic to cats. I also need to take an asthma test, a chest x-ray, and a stool sample. I was prescribed eye drops for my itchy and red eyes that you have blessed me to have in the morning, nasal spray for my itchy and runny nose in the morning, topical cream for my psoriasis which may actually be eczema, and pills to calm the stress levels that are affecting the rashes on my skin. Thank you for that. No really, thank you. Because of what you've done to my body, the body that is supposed to be perfect because you created it (notice how I don't capitalize the "y"?), I am a girl that is very sick on the inside and healthy-looking on the outside. If people say that the inside counts, then no fucking wonder that I can't attract a single guy.
Do you want to know why I hate you? Well, Mr. Almighty Being of the Entire Universe, this medication that is to enter my body day in and day out has worried my mother to the point where she is willing to give away our cats that we've had for two years, in exchange for a better, healthier daughter. Let me tell you something. When you give someone cancer, taking away their cats that supposedly gave them the cancer does not take away the cancer. I'm no religious woman, but I damn well believe that the same goes for my "asthma", which I have still a month to check for. But you already know if it's asthma or not, don't you, God?
I love my cats. I don't want them to be given away to strangers that I don't trust, and am not willing to trust. That happened once. You recall that, don't you? Four years ago, when Lily, my brown tabby, was too annoying for my mother to handle, you found a man who, dare I say it, looked "sketchy". And he said his daughter wanted a cat because theirs had run away. He didn't bring his daughter. We grabbed Lily from under the bed, shoved her into a box, gave him all the cat products we had, and sent him on his merry way. It's been four years, with not so much as a fucking phone call from him about how she's doing. Lily could be dead, for all you know. Oh wait, you DO know.
As a result of this new-found information, I am not allowed to touch my cats, I am not allowed to come into contact with them at all, they are not to come into my room. The only thing I can do is stare at them in longing and in pain.
I hope you're happy, because although my mother hasn't given them away yet, my cats are already dead to me. It hurts so much when I see them happy because I know that every day leads them so much closer to being hurt by someone they do not know. They're already so fragile, with the fear of being close to a stranger. I've regretted the day we gave Lily away every single day, and I'm so scared to have the same thing happen to Tommy and Hugo. These cats deserve a great home and a loving family. They have the spirit of children, and will always be my babies. But now that you've taken them away from me, I can only hope that the least you can do is keep them alive and safe.
I can't do anything when they're gone. The only questions I can ponder are: "are they okay?" "are they safe?" "do they get enough food to eat?" "are they cold at night?" "are they abused?" "are they dead?". These are only questions, with no answers. My mother retorted at the sadness and anger that my father and I adopted tonight at the dinner table by saying, "they're just cats, they can find a new home to live in." Unlike what my father said, I don't believe my mother is cold-hearted. She doesn't understand. Giving a cat away isn't like having a garage sale and throwing out the useless things. When you give a cat away, you're giving a life away to someone you may or may not trust. And sometimes I wish I had your power, God. I wish I had the power to see the future, to see if I could make the me now, choose a good person to take care of my cats.
It's your doing that has ruined my dreams of seeing my cats 10 years from now still running around in the backyard or sprawled across the carpet. And let me guess about the lesson this is supposed to teach me: I must cherish my body more than an animal because my body was given to me by you. Well, in this aspect, God, you failed. I don't cherish my body. I don't love it any more than I used to. I hate it because it is the reason that I have lost two of my best friends. And for that, I hate you.
The next time you see me, don't come up and smugly say, "well Jing, you always want what you can't have", because you're wrong. I always wanted what I had. I always wanted Tommy and Hugo.
- JɐL -
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