I am so cold.
~
I don't understand how I got here. One minute I was with my mother, and the next I'm..... I don't know where I am. I miss the blanket. I miss the soft. I miss the dry.
~
It's wet. Wet and cold. And this hard thing just pokes and pokes at me. No matter how I turn and twist I can't find a comfortable place to sleep. And I am so tired.
I'm more hungry than tired, though. So hungry. Where is my mother? Where am I?
I know I should stay quiet. Quiet is good. Quiet is safe. I've been quiet-calling for her for at least two darks and she isn't here. I don't know where she is. Maybe she is lost? Mommy, I am hungry. Mommy, where am I?
~
Oh no. No. No. That tall one heard me calling. What to do? What to do? I'll squinch smaller and close my eyes. If I close my eyes maybe they won't see me. Tall ones are danger. Tall ones hurt. I should have stayed quiet ~Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Where are you? Where am I?~
~
The dark is over, the wet is over. No Mommy ~ Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!~ My tummy is so hungry I can't stay quiet. I know she will come to me if I...
There's another tall one. This one is making soft-sounds, this one is calling quiet quiet quiet. To me? Is this for me? MOMMY, where am I?
~
The quiet tall one went away. I scared them away. But, what is that? What is that?
~
I can call quiet now; I wasn't sure I could, but I ate it. I ate all of it. The wet tastes better after I ate. Now I am so so so sleepy. Even this hard thing feels...
~
The dark is gone and there's more to eat. It smells like the tall one was here, and there's a soft blanket here in the dry. But the the dry is too open. I can't. I need to go back to the hard and... can I drag it with me? Will that be bad? I can right after I eat.
~
Sleeps and sleeps and now the tall one is folded and sitting by the eats. It smells so good. Mommy said never go near the tall ones. Tall ones HURT! But Mommy ~Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!~ I am tired of this. I don't want to be frightened anymore. Maybe this tall one will be good? Surely there are good tall ones?
The tall one isn't looking. I can move slow-slow-slow and get the eats and they won't see me. I can be safe. I can be good. If I am good maybe Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! will find me and I won't be alone here anymore.
~
The tall one is closer to the eats this bright. The wet is gone, too. The blanket helped and I am not so cold. The tall one isn't looking at me, but they are doing that soft-soft-soft singing and moving their fingers so slow, slow in circles. I don't think this is a hurting tall one. I don't know their song, but I can sing back to them, a little. If they are bad I can move quick quick quick and hide in the hard places.
~
The tall one is on the ground next to the eats this bright time. They are singing soft and making... they are making Mommy sounds! How? How? Is it Mommy! Mommy! Mommy? No. No she isn't here. It is the tall one. I don't understand. They sound like Mommy, they feed me, they gave me blanket.
I'm not alone anymore.
for the Vocal Small Kindness Challenge
About the Creator
Judey Kalchik
It's my time to find and use my voice.
Poetry, short stories, memories, and a lot of things I think and wish I'd known a long time ago.
You can also find me on Medium
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Keep reading
More stories from Judey Kalchik and writers in Psyche and other communities.
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The Psychology of Living in Your Head
I was at dinner with friends when I realized I had no idea what anyone had been talking about for the last fifteen minutes. They were laughing, animated, fully present in the moment. Meanwhile, I was three conversations deep in my own head—replaying something awkward I'd said two hours ago, planning tomorrow's presentation, and simultaneously worrying about whether I'd come across as distant by not contributing enough to this very conversation I wasn't actually having. My best friend touched my arm. "You okay? You seem a million miles away." She had no idea. I wasn't a million miles away. I was right there at the table, but I was also simultaneously existing in seventeen different mental dimensions, none of which were the present moment. "Sorry," I mumbled. "Just tired." But I wasn't tired. I was just living in my head again. Like always. The Inner World That Never Sleeps For as long as I can remember, my mental life has been louder, more vivid, and more consuming than my actual life. While my body moves through the world—working, eating, talking—my mind is elsewhere, running a constant stream of thoughts, scenarios, conversations, and narratives that never stop. I live in a perpetual state of analysis. Every interaction gets dissected afterward. Every decision gets examined from forty-seven angles. Every feeling gets intellectualized, categorized, and filed away for future rumination. My therapist calls it "being in your head." I call it my default state of existence. Other people seem to just be—they go to the gym and think about the gym. They watch movies and experience the story. They have conversations and stay in those conversations. I go to the gym and plan my entire week. I watch movies and critique the dialogue while simultaneously thinking about my own life's narrative arc. I have conversations while having three other conversations with myself about the conversation I'm supposed to be having. It's exhausting. But it's also the only way I know how to exist. The Architects of Overthinking I wasn't born this way. Or maybe I was, but life certainly reinforced it. Growing up, my household was unpredictable. Not chaotic in an obvious way, but emotionally volatile. I learned early that survival meant prediction—if I could think through every possible scenario, anticipate every reaction, analyze every mood shift, I could stay safe. My mind became my refuge and my fortress. When the outside world felt uncertain, I could retreat inward, where I had complete control. I could replay conversations until I found the "right" response. I could plan futures in meticulous detail. I could create entire worlds that made sense in ways reality never did. School rewarded this tendency. Teachers praised my thoughtfulness, my ability to see multiple perspectives, my rich inner life. "She's an old soul," they'd say. "Very introspective." What they didn't see was that I wasn't choosing introspection. I was trapped in it. The Prison of Possibility Living in your head means living in infinite possibility—and infinite paralysis. Every decision becomes monumental because I can see every potential outcome. Choosing a restaurant requires weighing seventeen variables. Sending a simple email takes an hour because I'm analyzing every word choice, every possible interpretation, every way it could be misunderstood. My partner once joked that I could turn "Should we get pizza tonight?" into an existential crisis. He wasn't wrong. But it's not funny when you're the one drowning in it. When your brain treats every choice like a choose-your-own-adventure book with infinite pages. When you're so busy thinking about living that you forget to actually live. I've missed so much because I was too busy processing it. Sunsets I didn't see because I was ruminating. Conversations I didn't hear because I was rehearsing what I'd say next. Moments of joy that passed me by because I was already analyzing them, trying to capture and preserve them instead of simply experiencing them.
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Violence Begets
"Any last words, cowboy?" "None you'd understand, sodbuster." "Funny. That's Marshall Sodbuster to you. But I meant some last nugget that would help us in the adjudication of the myriad offenses counted against you and your gang. I wasn't asking for penitence."
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Comments (7)
This story kept me reading to see what will happen glad it was a happy ending.
My heart was pounding, I was getting worried and wondering what is going to happen, you captured the feeling and sense of panic so well,
I love this perspective for such a heartwarming story Judey!! Beautiful work!!
I dont know why but this had me sobbing. It started around the first: Mommy? where are you? I even tried hyperventilating to keep from crying. lmao the weird things I do at my desk jeez. I love it so much. And a love for life is what we get when we do things like this. I gotta go blow my nose but I really loved this entry Judey.
That was so adorable, heart aching, and heartwarming all at the same time. You captured the voice of a lost kitten perfectly. Well done, and great job on rescuing your kitty.
I just love this. And thank you for saving Ritzie. 🤗
Oh, so well written from the perspective of a four-legged in distress. Kudos for your rescue and a great entry!