mope mope mope

This is stupid, but I am absolutely gutted by the fact that my cats hate me.

They're over there, being resentful to each other, too, sitting quietly and tensely, shooting me death glares every so often. Two nights ago, Boudica was sleeping on my feet just like always. As soon as the suitcases were brought out, she cut me off, so to speak. Somehow it's my fault that the other residents of this house are gone. And somehow it's not enough that I am the one who didn't abandon her. So I'm getting the silent treatment.

This is upsetting because it's just the most physically obvious manifestation of the pattern of my whole life right now: there is no cat by my feet. It's just further proof that there's something inherently wrong and poisonous about me. My friends turn away, my family turn their eyes askance, and employers never call me back after hearing my voice. I wish I knew what it is about me that makes people (and cats) run for cover.