If Cats Disappeared From the World

And if I disappeared from the world? Well, I suppose nothing would change at all. Things would probably just go on, day after day… same as usual.

So I’ll die with all those failures and regrets, all those unfulfilled dreams—all the people I never met, the things I never tasted, the places I’ve never been. But that doesn’t bother me anymore. I’m satisfied with who I am and how I’ve lived. I’m happy to have been here at all. Where else but here could I have been?

Humans have even felt the need to wrap their bodies up in time.

What did I gain by growing up, and what did I lose? I can never resurrect the thoughts and feelings I had in the past.

When you think about it, it’s the future you’ll never get to see that you regret missing the most when you die. I realize it’s strange to use the word “regret” about things that haven’t happened yet, but I couldn’t help thinking something along the lines of “if only I would be alive.” It’s a strange idea.

Like love, life is beautiful because it has to end.

But one small morsel of pain remained. Just one little regret. And that is the feeling that if we had just had our phones with us on that flight back to Japan, maybe, just maybe we could have talked about our feelings and wouldn’t have had to break up. Monopoly was over, but maybe we could have tried a new game.

Before, I would hold him and pet him without thinking about it much, but now, for the first time, it occurred to me that this is what life was all about.

“There is a difference between knowing the path and walking the path.”

There’s something just as inevitable as death. And that’s life