Quite often, we hear the popular phrase "Curiosity killed the Cat".
Know, gentlemen, that curiosity
did not cause the Cat's death.
The true story is that the Cat,
in his curious nature, wanted to know everything.
For days and nights, the Cat prowled through rooftops and alleys,
doors and windows (transparent and black),
hunting for the truth and unearthing explanations.
The Cat wandered to the bleakest confines of the abyss
and gazed unflinchingly into its depths.
It was at that moment that the Cat realised that the abyss
always stares back.
The Cat jumped as if he had seen a snake
(or perhaps, in the midst of fear, he saw a snake in a cucumber).
The Cat ran at full speed and scratched everything in his path.
But the Cat couldn't tear the abyss's gaze away.
Curiosity didn't kill the Cat.
It was something worse: The Cat learned The Truth.
The Cat kept running away,
tried to run and hide
(but The Truth never sets you free:
once you dare to see it,
you become its slave).
The Cat then took action:
He took out a life insurance policy
and when one didn't seem enough,
he took out eight more.
But nothing was enough.
The Cat regretted every day of his Nine Lives
the audacity of having seen The Truth
without thinking about what it meant;
he wondered if one day in his Nine Lives,
he would simply return to being
the Cat he was before
he looked into the abyss.
The Cat began to see the world with a different
(almost paranoid) curiosity:
He saw shadows revolving and revolting in each corner,
and heard the deepest despair in the hollow eyes of the ones who drifted along with him.
He could see the difference between innocent and evil smiles
(and felt compassion for the ones who didn't notice these differences until it was too late).
The Cat existed in a suspended order between mortal and immortal: He would walk among others, aware of the depth of his knowledge, but he would still look for the careless innocence of the ones who hadn't seen enough yet.
The Cat became a reader.
He could read rooms, patterns, intentions and pain so easily,
that his path became effortless to transit, yet excruciating to bear.
He could clearly see
who deserved cuddles,
who should love him,
and who he should ignore
(and whoever dares to deceive the Cat,
even today faces the imminent fate
of seeing The Truth through his eyes).
The Cat continued to flee from The Truth and the abyss,
but The Truth is faster than cats,
and the abyss is deeper
than any cat imagines.
So if you ever notice a cat running away,
take pity on his hunted fate:
Curiosity didn't kill the Cat,
but it did end his life.
