To the world that took everything and called it fair, You don’t get it, do you? You throw storms at people who are already drowning. You take the one soft thing we cling to—like a cat who knows when we can’t speak—and you say it’s just life. You strip away our safety, our comfort, our reason to get up in the morning… and expect us to keep breathing like it costs nothing. Scratchy isn’t just a cat. He’s the only one who stayed. He stood by the door on days I couldn’t stand. He nudged my ribs like he knew my heart was breaking. He didn’t ask questions—he showed up. And now, because someone with power and no understanding waved their hand like it meant nothing—I’m supposed to say goodbye? I’m supposed to hand over my heart and still pretend to be okay? No. I won’t call this fair. I won’t call this "part of life" or "just how it goes." This is cruelty dressed in paperwork. This is loss painted over in silence. And yeah—my face is stained with dried tears, my eyes are red, my world is wrecked. But that’s what real love looks like when it’s ripped away. So, world—if you’re listening— You may take my home. You may try to take my hope. But you will never take what Scratchy gave me. That love is mine. That bond is mine. And it will live in me long after this storm passes. Even if my voice shakes, I’ll still scream this truth: He saved me. And I will never forget him