She was like Marat only with nobody to kill her.

     

    Seldom have I looked towards stars and seen nothing but fractured light. Because, I guess, stars to me have always been a constant in my life, I see them as something beyond science. When I had no other place to go, i would loose myself in the cavalcade of stars and moonlight. As of now, I feel assured of where I am heading, and instead of loosing myself in their mystery, I instead look to the sky to assure myself, I am going the right way. though I do have an undeniable sense of worry that infects me, I still feel like everything I have done, every decision I have made, led me to the right place. I'm happy, I really am.

                     I've been clean of my suicidal thoughts for almost a year, my self harming for two and my eating disorder for three! I'm proud of myself, I'd never though I'd make it this far, and I have an innate desire to scream out on the roof how happy and proud of myself I am. I feel like I deserve good things to come, and I'm both scared and excited for the long life ahead of me. I really shouldn't spend my time worrying, I spent enough time doing that while rotting in bed. I've worked hard to be the best version of myself I can, i think I can give myself some time not to worry. Just for a bit though, I have to feel prepared if the aliens finally take me away or I get murdered, you never know nowadays :).

I have to get around to writing down my shitty poetry, it was my New year resolution, yeah yeah, they're stupid goal setting bullshit, but every year I make one. I wrote down some, but it is heinously bad that sharing that would stain this blog. So I guess I did it, but maybe sharing it would be thee next step.

In this moment, I want to hold on to this life, growing up is scary, I'm kind of excited, but at the same time I can't help but want to cry beads made of happiness and daisies, I want to hold on to moments like pictures, keeping them in boxes forever. But as I grow, I know they are bound to fade, so right now, I will hold onto them, before I let them fly away, making way for their replacements.

                                                         God, love makes me irrational, can I not go two seconds without being in Cupid's grasp with my heart strings playing Tchaikovsky's symphonies with every beat. I am sick with an incurable sickness that renderers me idiotic and completely unobtainable at times. I am Eros's bitch and my sensibilities can't help but crumble.

 “It is late now, I am a bit tired; the sky is irritated by stars. And I love you, I love you, I love you – and perhaps this is how the whole enormous world, shining all over, can be created – out of five vowels and three consonants.”
― Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Vera

You are the sun, I am the moon
You are the words, I am the tune
Play me