You can call me… Cat will do. I go by many names, depending on where I am and who you are. They each have stories, and they are each, in some way, true.
I identify as… myself. But I suppose I’ll try to squeeze my round head into a square hole for the sake of clarity: I am, first and foremost, a writer. I am a nomad and a suitcase philosopher. I love people for who they are — not what sort of bits they’ve got between their legs. I think gender is the greatest hoax of all time, and I want nothing to do with it apart from to laugh.
As far as third-person pronouns go, … whatever suits your fancy. I’m not that bothered about it.
I’m attracted to… Intellect, high empathy, moderate madness, passionate souls, and people with something profound to impart upon me.
When people talk about me, I want them to… I’d prefer they didn’t. I make a point of keeping my cards close, so there’s not really much for most people to say about me. Which means anything they do say is gossip and rumour. How silly.
Though I’d totally like to incite a protest.
I want people to understand… that they can take me or leave me. It isn’t going to change who I am, and I’ve moved heaven and earth to remove everyone and anyone who thinks otherwise from my life.
I’m not so bad, if you take the time to get to know me. Really. I even smell nice.
Cat is a wandering lunatic who someday hopes to be even one tenth as wise as the collective conscience. If only it could appreciate its own depth.
Oh, and write the Great American Novel. And cure cancer. And other similarly absurd aspirations.
Cat smokes a lot, writes a lot, thinks a lot, works a lot, and sleeps very little.
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