For Cat Scott from art school

We were watching a movie or a limited series of some sort with everyone in your living space when a scene came on which seemed as though a boy was about to be molested. I don’t know what happened, I made some sort of noise I hit my head and face repeatedly and next thing I knew I had teleported from your place and was in the top floor studio of our building. Maybe 3 or 5 minutes passed and there you were, you’d just come to check on me. There were a good number of people there with us all, more than a few of which I’d consider myself to be much closer with, but you Cat, you were the one that showed up.

That’s not even the most remarkable instance of your grace. I was truly at my worst in that school, I was in a lot of pain and took it out on everyone around me, bitterly, aggressively, and with a sickening efficacy. There was one argument in the common area in which I was clearly in the wrong, clearly the aggressor, when I spat out some insult at the collective group all sitting there, instead of firing back with a retort or being angry, you asked “what do you mean by that?” In a gentle, genuine way, in a way that made it clear, you just wanted to understand.

Cat I wouldn’t presume to say that we were any sort of close, maybe to call us friends even was a stretch, you were far too good a person for someone like me to be friends with at the time but Cat

I think of you always. In my mind, you exist as gentle rays of sunlight peering through leaves at twilight on a perfect summer evening. In the most wholesome way someone can think of another person, with no ulterior motives or feelings, I remember you fondly.

To this day no one, not my parents or even my greatest loves, has looked upon me so infallibly gently, and with so much compassion.

Thank you. If there is a next life, I will try to be someone like you.