la maladie

It frustrates me that you can't see how unhealthy this is.

And I don't mean it has too many goddamn calories.

le vingt quatrième

What's wrong with me
What's wrong
Why can't I do it
Why can't I stop
Who is to blame
Who can help
Where is the problem
Where is the answer
When did it start
When will it end
When will I realise
Sometimes it's easier
To ask what's right

le vingt troisième

There are the millions of people you will never talk to,
quite simply because you will never meet them.

Then there are the thousands you will never talk to again,
though you won't even notice.

There are the hundreds you will never talk to again,
for you can never seem to find the courage.

There are the dozens you will never talk to again,
no matter how hard you try to say the words.

There are the few you will never talk to again,
as a result of your own hatred and pride.

Then there are the ones you will never talk to again,
because you will never get the chance.

Those are the ones you will miss,
and those are the words you will utter to the universe
because there is no one else fit to hear them.

So when you talk to those ones, don't just talk.
Speak.

l'impossible

And just like that, you did what you said you never could.

But then you never really had a problem making the impossible possible.

le vingt deuxième

I didn't think it was possible. I was certain it wasn't. I had prepared myself for everything but this. Yet you did the one thing I never expected you to do. You managed to turn it all around. I was so certain, so sure. I didn't think anyone could change that. Least of all you. After all, it was your fault.

But you, you, in your own way, came along and threw it all back in my face. You lead me to believe things could work out. That things could be perfect, and I was doing it right. And in one short week, you reversed the roles. You hurt me.

I never knew you could really do it. You know - really, actually do it. But you did, and you really fucked it up this time.

And just like that, the lyrics weren't a parallel of the thoughts running through my head. They were your words, written for you.

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.