Have you ever just stood outside at night, looked up, and acknowledged how impeccably beautiful the stars are.

So pure and so confident they are beautiful, in abundance and sometimes the one lonesome star instead of many.

I remember as a child when I learned about wishing upon a star, I did that all the time, every chance I got.

But as I got older, I realized, I started wishing for the stars rather than wishing upon them. Let me explain.

I stopped wishing upon the stars but rather I began wishing, pleading for the stars to become something more than stars.

In my case, I wished that every star in the sky was not just a star, but rather love or happiness.

Think about it, what if every star in the sky was love in your life, every star was unwavering love that was yours and yours alone.

What if every star was happiness that was yours, Imagine having that much, how amazing life would be.

Maybe life would be as beautiful as the stars. But for me, each star in the sky was pain.

Every night I was reminded of that pain because there was just so many of them, how could I ignore it?

But I ended up learning something in school, I learned that a star was not really a star.

Stars are actually just residual light travelling to earth from a star that had died a very long time ago.

Which means that pain, like the stars, will never leave no matter how hard you try, there will always be some left behind.

My stars are pain. There’s so many and they could be anything.

You’re all a star in my sky. A source of my pain. All of you.

Babe, you’re a star, you hurt so much but you're impeccably beautiful.

Help me.

You told me I wasn’t good enough.

I was the pile of spare change you’d never use because they were so low in value they made you feel cheap.

But there’s so much of me at once that I’m worth more than your hundred dollar bill.

Your quirks,

I like them.

it presses
hard against
chest
squeezing
heart
and
the breath
from lungs
sending
brain spinning
clawing
at the ropes
on the suspension bridge
walked everyday
swaying above
fall

@journeyofdays

You can’t stop smoking
I can
You can’t ignore ****
I can
You can’t avoid drinking
I can
You can’t stop shouting
I can
You can’t shut up complaining
I can
You won’t drop that gun
I will
You can’t help silence
I can
You survive with violence
I can’t
Toleration with independence
Seizing opportunities for peace
Let the wire choke your lungs out
Hell in front, war of apes
Animals in the streets, Grodds
Telepathic maniacs attacking blocks
Rappers in the venues spitting fires
On every head spreading contagion
Zombies alike, transformers of Lannesters

this is irrational. in mathematics, the human reasoning - there will always be some sort of radical fallacy shoved into the equation. you. you sir, are what i call irrational. i can't lie when i say that i'm quite fond over how tall you stand, like a mountain. like a king. you don't rule the valleys and praries of your people, but you've found power along capalliries and veins. this box jutting irregularly in my chest is what you rule. i could construct motes and bridges and stone castle walls to keep you from getting in, but i can't deny i've always wanted to be a queen. your queen. i've never wanted so badly to rule your world. to take the throne and call you mine.

I bought a carton of eggs this morning.
Just a dozen.
Along with about $100 of other groceries I needed.
I didn't need the eggs though.
That is to say, that I didn't need to buy them.

(See, my sister has four fully grown chickens
who lay enough eggs to cover her family's needs and then some.
More eggs than she knows what to do with, honestly, and I could've easily gone to her place to get the dozen instead of buying it at the store.)

But I didn't, as a matter of convenience. It was simpler to buy them while I was at the store; to make one trip instead of two.

But then, when I was unloading the cart of groceries into the trunk of my car, that carton of eggs I bought, which (unbeknownst to me) had been placed on top of a 12 pack of toilet paper which toppled over after becoming unbalanced without the support of the other grocery bags that I had already unloaded, came crashing down.

They hit the parking-lot cement with a smack.
"Oh no, not the eggs!"
That's what I'd said.
I seriously said that out loud.

I picked up the bag with the fallen eggs in it. I opened the carton to see if they were alright, though I already knew at least a few had broken.

5, maybe 6. Maybe more. I don't know how many broke exactly, just looking at it made me sick. I walked the dripping bag back up to the entrance (after playing with the idea of going back in and being like: "Hey, my eggs broke in the parking lot because your inept bagger's idea of how to stack groceries was clearly inspired by the game Jenga. I demand a new carton of eggs!") but instead I just tossed them. The whole carton.

I'll just go to my sister's house before breakfast tomorrow.