Excerpt From a Book You'll Never Write

I looked at the sun, it’s rays softly illuminating all that was in their way. And I thought of you. I looked at the rain: first a slight drizzle, then slowly increasing to the point where a white curtain of water shrouded my eyes. And I thought of my love for you. I looked at the falling leaves, coloring the dull pavements and the grey streets with their different hues: orange, yellow and red. And I thought of how colorful my life had become after I’d met you. Then winter came. I looked at the snow, the delicate flakes falling onto my hands, sending a chill down my spine. I looked at the bleak world through the frosted glass of my window. And I thought of how cold and dark it had become after you’d left. But soon, when the seasons changed again and the cycle continued, I looked up at the clear blue sky and realized that it didn’t matter; you were gone, but I was still alive, breathing. I was stronger than I’d ever been before. And for once, I thought of myself.

I believe that the stars have souls. I believe that their place in the sky is the output of their energy, their wholeness. Each night, I watch the stars with wide eyes, intensely staring at the creation of their light. The sky is the spirit of existence, the showcase of love and truth and life. That night, the stars were especially bright. We laid on our backs in the grass, his arm wrapped around my waist, my head propped on his shoulder. The twinkle in his eyes matched the twinkle of the constellations. The air was thick with an overwhelming sense of peace, so foreign to me in the world of text tones and LED screens. Our breaths were aligned, heavy, together. Our souls were conjoined with the stars, each body listening intuitively to the other. In that moment, the stars shot across the sky, and he kissed me with the force of the moon and the passion of the sun.

people describe me as prickly, abrasive, as a compliment.  i am who i am. life has taught me that pretending to be a person that makes others feel comfortable only makes me sicker. so i may be a porcupine, but if you deserve it i'll put down my quills and let you stroke me.  let you see how soft i truly am underneath it all.

i wanted to give you the world- and everything in mine and you chose a mediocre love instead   i wanted to tell you that you deserve everything good in the world