If there’s anything good that came out of my suicide attempt, it’s what I did five years ago today. I wandered into the local humane association, and I instantly fell in love with a kitten that was behind bars. I adopted the little tabby with white socks and a white streak on his nose. I named him Simon, after Mr. Paul Simon.
I think I found my daemon (“The Golden Compass”) when I met Simon. I would not have made it through the last five years without him.
I gave him life, and he gave me mine.