Thirty.

I miss my fucking cats. My house is empty without them. Well, it's empty period. Had a yard sale two weeks ago to sell my stuff and took away about $120. A hundred bucks for a lifetime. That's how it feels. All the stuff I didn't sell I just gave away to my friends and family and threw away the rest. Thirty years of accumulated memories in the trash. That pretty much sums up my life.

I don't remember if I've mentioned it in my previous blogs (damn this fish memory of mine), but I've always been convinced I would die before I turned 30. I remember crying to my mom after my son was born and telling her how I felt. Maybe it was a prediction. Maybe it was because all my rocker idols died before they hit 30. I don't know. All I know is I can't even see past that date.

As I was sitting on my living room floor last night, making big piles of stuff into smaller piles of stuff, I thought to myself, maybe this is God's way of me cleaning up so when I die, my family won't have to deal with it all. Whenever I have thought of suicide throughout the years, I can never get past putting all of my items into neat little boxes and setting out my finances so after I die, my family will just have to mourn me, not stress out at all the shit they have to deal with because I died. Morbid, I know. But these thoughts cross my perennially depressed mind.

It's not getting better, by the way. It did for a time, and then it stopped. I stopped taking my morning meds because I was getting more and more anxious. Maybe that's why I feel this way now. I can't tell what is better: being sad and stressed and miserable, or being anxious and stressed and miserable. My emergency Xanax bottle is almost empty. It was full a few months ago. I wouldn't mind if I was slightly under the "happy" line, you know? I just want some consistency with my moods. And not shitty depressed all the time. I don't know what happiness feels like. My husband tells me last night, "I was going through pictures of when we first got together and you were so happy. There was light in your eyes. I don't see that light anymore". Really? You don't think I fucking know that? The worst possible thing to feel, other than your own misery, is making others miserable just having you around.

My family wants to throw a farewell/birthday party for me. I don't want one. At all. My sister and mother met me at a busy restaurant to go over the guest list and planning, and I almost left. The stress is too much. They also want to go to the airport when my husband and I leave for Australia. I'd much rather take a cab. I can't deal with the sadness and stress of leaving my country, my family, my friends, my life topped with the fear and anxiety of boarding a plane for thirteen hours. No one gets it. I am fucking bipolar. This is me. I can't imagine changing anymore. I am getting unhappier and unhappier as the days go by.

If I have to think really hard at happiness, maybe the pure movement of moving, the getting rid of all my possessions, leaving everything I know, maybe this is the "death" I have always thought of. Maybe landing in Australia three weeks before my thirtieth birthday is the new beginning. Maybe I was always supposed to be there. I do believe in fate. I think of jobs I've passed up for a riskier one, and the first job went out of business. I think of people I met by chance that ended up making me who I am today. Or hell, maybe I'll die in a plane crash. That seems fitting.

Dear Sam.

You are one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I loved you the moment I laid eyes on you. Letting you go is the hardest thing I've had to do, and I can only imagine in my head that you will be happy somewhere else or I may just crack.

I named you Sam because I had seen the movie "I Am Legend", and the girl dog was named Sam (actually Samantha). I loved that name, so I knew my future cat would be named Sam. When your dad and I got together, I told him I wanted cats as our wedding gift to each other. on Valentine's Day 2009, the local pet shop was having an adoption fair so I decided today would be the day we expanded our family.

When I walked in, you were alone, sleeping in a cage. My heart exploded. I didn't need to look at any more cats. You were meant for me. When I looked at your birth date and it read "December 7, 2008", it sealed the deal. Your dad and I were married the day you were born. Another thing that drew me to you is your freaky seven toes. One of my favorite cats growing up had six toes. Your feet look like little catcher's mitts. Someone had named you "Tiki". The lady had said you are very timid, and only come out of your shell when you get to know someone. How right they would be. I kept telling the lady, "that is my cat. That is my cat!" You had been fixed earlier that day, so you were very groggy when I picked you up and held you. After I decided on your brother Portal, we put you in his cage to see how you two would get along. You curled up to him immediately. I wasn't able to take you home until two days later because of the surgery, so I patiently waited for you.

When you got home, you took to Portal right away but acted like you hated dad and I. You would run under the couch and we would have to coax you out and show you where the food bowl was. I was devastated. When dad went to find you and you hissed at him, we thought we may have to give you back to the adoption people. After around a week, you came around. You still ran away if we got too close to you, but when the time was right, you would come around us and get pet.

You are the true definition of a cat. You sleep all the time and want to be left alone unless it suits you. You liked playing with Portal more than playing with us. But a funny thing happened when you were around 6 months old. You would normally, like Portal, fall asleep at night between dad's legs. When you would wake up, or see us rustling around, all of the sudden you would start your engines. We called it "furr-furr". Your purr was so loud that you could hear it across the room! You were determined to get pet. You would walk on us all the way up to our face and start licking our hands or our face until we would pet you. Sometimes I would be half-asleep and I'd call out, "no, nang!" (one of our nicknames for you). But eventually I got used to it. You would usually head towards me and not dad. I think I'm a better petter anyway :) Once I took a picture of you when your furr-furr engines were on and you were laying on my neck:

We called this your "Goomba face". We always giggled at you because your cat expression was always the same. You liked to pounce. Dad and I had an inside joke where if we heard something moving around we'd say, "is that Sam?" then you would *FOOF!* pounce! You rarely meowed, and when you did, dad and I would laugh because it was usually when you were calling for Portal. You were Portal's big brother. You would play fight and always win. You would groom Portal all the time (we called it "Bromancing"). You wouldn't eat people food, except for melted cheese.

You were there for me during my darker moments, and just having you around made me feel better. Your nicknames were Nang, The Nang, Sammy, Nammy. I will never get over you. I promise you I will never love another cat as much as I love you, Sam. Thank you for the joy and the comfort you gave me. I hope that you will bond with someone else and show them just how wonderful you truly are. I love you so much.

Dear Portal.

You mean the universe to me. You are the most social, silly cat I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. You may not be able to read this, but I hope that maybe the person who gets you next may be able to get a better idea of you if I can give them the story of how you became our Portey.

Your dad and I met playing an online video game on the computer you hate us playing on! You always have to sit in my chair before I have a chance to sit down, or get tangled in dad's feet under his desk. Anyway, in this silly video game he had a white cat he named "Portal". He told me he named it that because it was his favorite video game of all time. When he and I got engaged, I told him I wanted two cats as our wedding gifts to each other.

Around two months after we married, on Valentine's Day 2009, I secretly went to the pet store near my work where they were having an adoption fair. I didn't know what I was looking for in my cat, but it took me two milliseconds to see your brother Sam before I knew that was going to be my cat. When I arrived, I knew dad's cat had to be a white boy cat. I saw you. Back then, someone had named you "Starsky". You were in a cage with your sister, Jade, and your brother "Hutch", had already been adopted earlier that day. Next to your cage was your mom's cage: she was a beautiful Siamese. You were born just two months earlier, on December 12, 2008. You were a big old white fluffball kitten. I was worried you'd be too fluffy for our house, but you were just meant to be our Portal. Before we chose you, we put Sam in your cage and the two of you curled up together like you were meant to be together. We had to take Sam two days later, as he was just fixed. So on the drive home, it was just you and me.

In the carrier on the way home, you meowed like your heart was broken. I was worried you didn't like me! Also, you were a surprise to your dad, and I just hoped the two of you would bond. When we pulled up, your dad met us outside. I took you out of the carrier and handed you to him. He was angry for about two seconds that I didn't tell him we were getting cats, but in two seconds he melted when he saw you.

That night, you were so happy sniffing around your new, big house. You wanted to get into everything (something you still love to do). That night we set you down at the foot of the bed in your cat bed, and you hopped up and nestled in between dad and I and fell asleep. The whole time you were a kitten, you had to be next to either me or dad. When we sat down to eat on TV trays you had to sit in between us. When we lay down to watch TV, you had to sit on our heads and be involved. When we brought Sam home, you guys hit it off instantly. The two of you would run up and down the stairs and play, and when it was time to sleep you would curl up together and sleep.

As you got older, your personality stayed the same. You stopped sleeping in between dad and I, but you always slept in between his legs. You are the most vocal cat, and always like to meow when you are not the center of attention. We had to put velcro on some drawers because you were always into everything. You have been found in all kinds of places, like the hamper or the shower or the bathroom cabinet. I remember when we thought we had lost you forever during the move, and we found you five hours later hidden in the clothes drawer. You have no idea how much you scared us! We were so relieved you were okay! You like french fry pieces. You only eat fresh food-even if the bowl is half full! You lay on the weirdest things, like telephones and clothes hangers. You hate to be held unless it suits you. You love to get your belly rubbed. When you and Sam would play fight, you always yowled and screamed like he was beating the heck out of you!

When we moved into the smaller apartment, all you ever wanted to do was get outside and see what was out there. When we opened the door and let you out on the stoop you were the brave one who always got to the bottom step before you were caught. You are like a little dog. You meet us at the door every time we leave, and you are extremely loyal. We gave you silly nicknames like Port-Port, Portey, Portisnang, and Naughty.

I'm so sorry we have to leave you, Portal. You are our best friend, our baby. I hope that no matter what, you are happy and loved and cared for. You deserve to be spoiled rotten, and I hope that whoever or whatever family takes you in, that you will finally run out of energy by being played with. We love you so much.