Starlust

I am convinced that every reader had at least met a person who blames things on books.

I want to live life as a kind person, one who is deeply flawed but still tries her best to be a speck of light for other people. I don't want to be a ray of sunshine because that's not who I am. I am a nihilist, a pessimist, most days are not good ones, and certainly not the one who lights up the room whenever they come in. What I want is to look for something good in everything and everyone because no one chose this life, and each one of us has a problem that we carry. The world has too much hate, and so little to love. Everything changes, and nothing stays. I want to walk through life with love, knowing that one day I would still bleed. I want to scream, cry, jump — feel everything strongly even if it hurts because that's the only way you'll open up to life. I want to be the main character, wash my dishes to a soundtrack, be my own audience and critic — one that watches me fail and make mistakes yet takes the judgement and loathing out of it and replace them with understanding, and the desire to improve. I want to reinvent myself, build a crazy wardrobe and move to a different city. I hope to meet people, have mundane conversations on the elevator and pass random smiles and compliments. I want to smell flowers as I pass by the park and run my fingers through grass. I wish to people watch and appreciate the randomness of life, laughing at bad jokes and catching puns and lame pop culture references. Songs to sing out loud, trains to catch and books to seek refuge in. Museums to visit, wonders to discover, math equations to solve. hugs from a person, tucking your hair in and handwritten note passed. Camera roll filled, solitude cherished and the promise of hope, maybe and someday given every sunrise.