Cat in heat and loneliness

The cats are in heat. I can hear them outside my window--their yowls. Strange that I should get nostalgic to that. Haha. I still remember that excuse letter Chunhui wrote to Mr Poh about her not being able to sleep due to the cats' mating season. It had Chunhui's mum signature, Mr Poh gave a strange look, but said nothing.

I don't know what I'm trying to write about right now, there really is no point that I'm trying to make, other than the fact that cats are mating outside, and I'm lonely.
Sometimes I get this way.

It nothing as grand as Peublo Neruda's feelings of exile in his poems, nor as beautiful as the desolation in The Little Prince. It's just a mild blue, something that will pass soon enough. But there are days like this, when the night is so quiet, and then there are the cats, and the world seems so big, and still. Then there's me, and I feel small. Tiny like a grain of sand.

The cats have stopped now. And it is so quiet again. My dad is talking to my sister in the other room, I hear only their muffled chatter. But there is still silence. And it has a texture, like grains in old black and white photos.

I don't know what I need. I just hear that hiss of a world outside my window, even with the curtains closed, there is this life. And somewhere in the bushes cats are coupling.