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.

le vingtième

So I know these two girls. They're my best friends. We stay up past midnight on school nights, and complain about homework. Then we get to school and complain about how tired we are, how we didn't do our homework, and how we won't be able to do any work that day.

But the nights. These nights. They far outweigh the days. Outshine. We talk about our boyfriends. How much we love them, and how much we hate them. We talk about how amazing love is, and how much it sucks. We talk about how pointless school is, and how we can't wait to see each other there the next day. We talk about our dreams, our hopes. The ideas in our minds that may never come true. But we imagine.

Imagine if we lived together. It'd be hopeless. We'd never sleep, never get anything done. Just lie in bed all night, all day, talking...

Oh sorry, did I say hopeless?

I meant perfect.

le dix-neufième

There is no greater power, no higher being controlling everything.
If there was, why do some people prosper when others suffer? The Guilty live when the Innocent die.
Is it to even things out? To make things ' fair ' ?

Fair is not rich bastards eating caviar on million dollar yachts, while millions starve in their own homes. Fair is not spoilt brats spending thousands on shit they think they need, while thousands of helpless kids are given a gun and sent to war because they are told it is what they need. Fair is not one child being brought into a wealthy family having done nothing to deserve it, while one child is left in a world with nothing at all.

Now somehow fair just doesn't seem all that fair to me.

lueur

The boy with the shining soul. A thread of gold in a faded patchwork quilt.

le dix-huitième

She pushes on, through, against;
Resisting everything around her.
All that has been, but none that will be.

The difference is as blurred as the shapes on the horizon.
On the highway in her mind it is impossible to tell;
Wrong from right, right from left.

There is nothing left.

But nothing is what she looks for.
Her whole life surrounded by things which no longer exist;
Things she could never understand.

Every thing is gone, and when all is gone
Nothing remains.
She remains.

She who was never anything; someone else’s everything.
Just the empty space left to its own devices.
Devices which lead her on her search.

A search, not to find everything,
Because everything means nothing to her;
Nothing is her everything.

le dix-septième

I don't believe in God.
I believe in Life.
The one thing we all share;
The common ground.
No matter how bad, life is life.
Life Is.
There is no heaven, no hell.
No eternal damnation,
No white light at the end of the tunnel.
Just the here, and the now.
Each breath in,
Each breath out,
Each beat of a heart,
Each blink of an eye.
We are life, after life, after life.
Our sole purpose is to live the life we are given,
Until we drain it of every drop,
And move on to the next.
Have you ever watched a movie,
or read a book,
and thought to yourself...
I wish that was me?
I like to think that maybe it was.