le vingt et un

Do you think it's romantic? Telling me we were the result of all things in our solar system suddenly becoming perfectly aligned? A cosmic union that ended with a heavenly bang, creating something of astral proportions. I'm sorry to say, but I am not universal. I am not a star. I am not a planet. I'm not even Pluto.

Of all the planets, Pluto is the saddest. Spending aeons in false hope. Believed to be part of a greater whole. Small, yet significant. But oh, Pluto, when times changed you were deemed insignificant. Neither grand nor glorious enough to belong with the other planets. And just like that, you lost everything you once were. No longer a planet, but a piece of debris, cluttering the edges of our starlit galaxy. Though do not lose all faith, for there are those few who shall remember you for what you once were. What you still deserve to be. Even when the history books are all rewritten, the astrological charts redrawn, the last traces of your planetary reign removed, you shall still be Pluto, the planet that never was.

I wish this much could be said for me.
I am but a trace of dust, floating, fading in your atmosphere. You cannot even reach out to take hold, to get a grip. I am not a planet. Nor do I want to be.
I want to be the sun.
I want the world to revolve around me.

jalousie.

Envy; so much more preferable then jealousy. So much more positive. But what if I don't want to be positive? What if I want to hate you, and everything you have? If only it were that easy.
Jealousy; one of the least compliant emotions.