Misunderstanding Darkness

"...She seems to hide all looks that have ever fallen
into her, so that, like an audience,
she can look them over, menacing and sullen,
and curl to sleep with them. But all at once

as if awakened, she turns her face to yours;
and with a shock, you see yourself, tiny,
inside the golden amber of her eyeballs
suspended, like a prehistoric fly."
-Black Cat, Rainer Maria Rilke

The other day, on my way up to our flat, I noticed something moving while I was just a few steps more into getting on the second floor. A Black Cat.

Slowly, I moved up to avoid scaring it away. It stopped a few feet from me, and shot me this look. This would be my first actual encounter with an (all) black cat, no white spots on its fur or whatever, and the only color you'd see was its green eyes. I've always said that I'd want to own a black cat one day. Oftentimes misunderstood creatures for the many myths we've heard about them in our lifetime, most of them saying that they bring bad luck. "That's just stupid", I'd say. It could be a different story for you though.

I looked at the cat for a few seconds, worried that I had scared it, but it looked back at me, and with the expression on its face, I thought it was hissing at me. I looked closely and listened harder. It looked like it was hissing, no doubt. But it was actually meowing. "You must be really thirsty", I said. I slowly walked to the door, I tried to call it out but it didn't come near. I was a bit scared, if you ask me. For some reason it felt like such a weird encounter.

I looked for empty plastic containers, filled it with tap water and headed out the door, making sure I didn't forget my house key, just in case I needed to stay out longer and shut the door. I left the container on the side of the stairs where I last saw it, and it was still there. Before I could even make it comfortable with my presence, someone entered the main door of the building. The cat started to panic and I had anticipated what was going to happen next. I slowly took the container back, and silently walked back to my flat. The next thing I heard was the man screaming out of fright.

I checked the floor a few minutes after that through our peephole, and no sign of the cat. I was worried, and I wanted to get out to look for it, but I was scared. Scared because I knew I was going to be too attached and would want to keep it. But that would cost me too much.

Today, I'd still wonder where it went. And then I realized that at some point, I was just like the black cat. That's what I really am, someone you'd misunderstood. I do sound like I'm attacking you most of the time, but if you listen closely, you'd probably hear me crying for help.

To be honest, not that I'm trying to sound all cool, but who I really am, is pretty much just like that girl in that indie film you've seen, once, or twice. The girl you feel like you could really relate to, because she's messed up, and she's lost, and has no place to go home. She's wearing a tank top, a pair of skinny jeans, dark eyes - you can't even tell if its eyeliner, or maybe they're bags under her eyes, cos she can't sleep at night.

I'm not pretending to be this person, this happy person - because I know there are so many, so many things to be thankful for, but when my Mom died, a huge part of me went missing. Lost its color. A huge part of me is just like this black cat. Just like that girl in the movies who mopes a lot in her usual grungy ways. Its typical, if you ask me.

But its not, not if you're in the same situation. Every single living being in this earth wants nothing but to love, and to be loved. Moulin Rouge got it right.

I want to love that black cat.

(photo from Just-b-Cos, post-processed by Me)