Who wrote cats in the cradle

Who wrote cats in the cradle

Who wrote cats in the cradle?

You can’t blame her for a single thing, can you?

If you can’t trust the guy who brought you that cute cat, or fed you and loved you for 17 years, then who could you trust?

He used to sit next to her in school.

He used to pat her shoulder and tell her that he knew she was going to be a doctor.

He used to take her to the mall so they could buy her things that she told him she needed and wear them in her room.

He used to buy her gifts that she cried over and made up stories about, sometimes crying herself to sleep.

He knew about her eating disorder.

He loved her more than anything and would protect her from the world for her entire life, even if it killed him.

He knew about her self-harm and the suicidal thoughts that would stay with her for the rest of her life.

He gave her the one thing that she needed in order to survive and cope, and he used to ask her why she hadn’t used it.

He didn’t believe that eating disorders are a mental illness.

He’d tell her that she wasn’t lazy or ‘weak’ if she wanted to change what she’d been doing since she was a kid.

He called her every night for 18 years, sometimes two times a night, when she was in the hospital.

He would tell her that he loved her every time he called.

He would cry on her shoulder and tell her how much he loved her when she told him she wanted to kill herself.

He was the most selfless, caring, sweet person she had ever known.

He was the last person in the world to believe that you could commit suicide if you wanted to.

He’d say that she didn’t have to live like that if she didn’t want to.

But when she sd she was ready to end her life, he told her that he wouldn’t be able to live without her and he thought about how much he would miss her.

He’d ask her what she would do without him.

And he made it all about her.

He made sure that the last thing he ever sd to her would be ‘I love you’.

He’d tell her that he wished he was there with her and that she could stay with him forever.

When he was done speaking, he’d say ‘Now, I want you to open your eyes and tell me what you want’.

After a few times, she’d finally say what she wanted.

She told him that she wanted him to be there with her, watching her make this all about her.

He asked her how she wanted to live.

She sd ‘To love and be loved’.

And that was it.

When she died, he could stay by her side all night and he could do what he loved best: making people smile.

He stayed by her side until she passed away.

He got to watch his son grow up.

He got to hold his grandson.

He got to watch his wife grow old and feeble.

He got to see how much he meant to everyone.

And every time he saw a person smile, he would wonder if he made their life better or if he just got lucky.

I have a friend who died in a tragic accident. He was such a caring, giving person and, when he had a chance, he wanted to be with his family and friends.

I miss him so much.

He died too young.

He was on his way home from his son’s second birthday party, when an intoxicated driver crossed the street, causing him to lose control of his car and smash into my friend’s vehicle.

It crushed him.

In his last moments, he asked if he had left anything for his family.

I know it was selfish of me to want to go, but I just had to be there for him.

He had a lot of friends and he wanted them to see him in the best light possible.

It meant a lot to him that he could be with his family.

He wasn’t the same after that.

It took a few years before I could even talk about him agn.

But, just like how the first time I watched The Notebook, I can’t stop thinking about him and how much he did for so many people.

That was how I felt about him, on my way home.

I didn’t know it would end like this.

My friend and I were so close.

I couldn’t get the thought out of my head that I could have changed something.

It’s the worst feeling.

I think of all the great stories we shared, all the late-night, drunken, laugh-filled nights that he so generously made up for.

He was there for me when I needed him most.

He was the one person I could call when my life was at its lowest.

He was so kind.

He was the type of person who made you feel comfortable with his presence.

I miss him so much.

His death was such a cruel thing to happen.

But it wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.

I should have known, after he was in that car, that it wouldn’t end like that.

When we first began to get closer, I thought we were destined to be together.

We were going to fall in love.

I had been through so much in life, and for the first time, it felt like my soul mate was right there for me.

The things we shared are just too numerous to mention here.

But, he was my best friend.

I guess we’ll have that.

If only I could get those moments back.

But I don’t think I could ever feel the same about anyone else.

I know that it was a mutual thing.

They say time heals all wounds.

But, you can only tell so much.

If we ever got a second chance, I’d do things differently.

He didn’t deserve to die like this.

Sometimes I still hear his voice, when I think no one is around, and it breaks my heart to hear his voice agn.

It’s a bit of a different voice than usual, because it isn’t completely natural for him to speak that way anymore.

The last thing he sd to me was, “Don’t forget me,” before the car crashed.

I always wonder if he is still there, hanging around that car wting for me.

If he sees me, I don’t know what I’ll say.

Will I be able to make him understand that he’s wrong?

I wonder if he’s happy at all, when he’s in Heaven.

I’m not sure what he would think of all of the things that have happened, since he died.

And I’m not sure what would make him want

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