Living forever has it's perks. Wait long enough and you can try new things. Things that weren't ever a sparkle in someone's eye a century ago. New foods, new cities, new technology. New people.
The ocean is ebbing and flowing. So are you. You'll continue to float along the tides and change like your world around you.
The moon has phases, rigid changes that follow a pattern. Is it really changing? Are you? You spend nights watching the stars spin and move, wondering if you have that much freedom.
The sun burns brightly, unmoving, and so do you. You've never known anything else. How long have you been like this? How much longer will you be like this?
The world is changing, but you're not certain that you are.
The ocean is lovely, lovely, and full of life. It sparkles more than you're sure you ever did. But you cannot hold the ocean for very long, no matter how hard you try. The droplets of water it leaves behind evaporate when you touch them. You burn so hot. This must be love.
The moon watches you. She always watches you. A soft and ever glowing light. You only ever feel truly free when she's not there. You love her, you assure yourself, even as you revel in her absence.
The ocean is dry. You're left standing in hot sand, hoping that if you cry enough, perhaps you can bring it back. It burns. This must be love.
You blaze your way into other's lives, and leave them just as quickly before you can burn them too badly. Deep down, you know you only leave as to not burn so brightly for them that you burn out entirely.
You've abandoned the moon for the stars and their freedom. You won't look back. You haven't yet.
The deepest parts of the ocean know you better than anyone. You can truly be yourself here, with your fangs, your claws, and the taste of blood on your tongue.
It's enough to simply exist. It's enough to be alive. Why do you feel like you're still searching for something? Why can't you find it?
Beg, you tell your lovers. Your touch burns them, your presence alone makes them sweat. They're holding the sun. Beg, you say again. Beg me to stay. Nobody ever does. You burn everything you touch to ash, after all.
For the first time in a long time, you can do anything you want. How wonderful. How terrifying. There's more choices in the world than stars in the sky. They look at you expectantly, and wait for you to choose.
Surely if you hold onto something for too long, it will blister and burn away like everything does.
The tides constantly change; You've stopped moving along with them. The dark waves would sooner drag you under and hold you there until you're as pale as the carcasses that float atop them. Were you always this lonely? The blood on your tongue tastes bitter.
You wish you were anyone else.
Drunken and sticky, tangled in the arms and legs of strangers, you can forget for a night. For a day. You can lose yourself, but you will always come back. Some days you wish you'd never remember.
It's strange, looking at someone with your face. But was it really ever yours?
Something so small and so ordinary catches your attention. If you touch it, will it burn away too? How surprising, to see that it can burn as harshly as you, while staying so small. A star in your hands. It asks you to stay. This must be love.
Living forever has it's perks. You've changed.
