The world
is not a wish granting factory.
Is what she says,
her story telling her it can be.
Her miracle coming
in the likely form of an angel.
An angel she calls a friend,
a good friend,
a friend who understands,
a friend who loves her,
so much,
for who she is,
and her dreams,
however impossible and unrealistic.
My thoughts stars
I can't fathom into constellations.
Maybe the fault,
dear Brutus,
isn't in our stars,
but in ourselves.
The fault that we find,
human nature for caring,
human nature for giving,
a nature causing us,
to fall apart,
to love and be broken.
But sometimes that love,
is the key in defeating the stars,
our destiny written
and being rewritten,
no matter the laws of time
and space.
Our stars,
bringing the patient fate
that has followed us
since we learned of life.
Delivering it on our doorstep,
in our arms,
leaving a pile of good
and bad things.
The good things
don't necessarily
cancel out the bad things
and the bad things
don't necessarily
cancel out the good things,
but what you do,
what you feel
you pick out of that pile of stuff
fate delivers to you.
You are the person
you choose to be,
no matter what others think of you,
no matter what others
tell you to do.
You are the person
you choose to be,
and if you listen
to their complaints
and stereotypical dreams,
then that
is who you can become.
If you listen
to your heart,
you get to recreate
the idea you have
of yourself.
You
are the person
who decides what you're going to do
with your life,
day in and day out.
You have to attempt
to make something for yourself
that is worth living for,
that is worth fighting for.
The phrase
'Are you okay?'
doesn't mean much.
Something we say,
just reaffirming
the thin veil of fantasy
that we have put over ourselves,
telling ourselves
that it has got to get better.
It doesn't.
Sometimes,
you die
of a heart shattered
into a billion pieces,
friends frantically
trying to sweep up the fragments,
shoving the piles
of the pieces into your hands
hurting you more than
when they were spread away from you,
when you could not care about it anymore.
Sometimes,
your friends help you stand up,
help you put back
the pieces of
the shattered life that you live,
slowly rebuilding,
giving time for the wounds
to lessen their pain,
and for you to loosen your grip
on fantasies.
Tightening our grip on humanity,
one of the scariest things
that you can do,
but at one point or another,
it has to be done.
But in response to the question,
no matter the tears
running down their face,
their broken lives,
broken hearts,
broken from the inside out,
hurt so much
that you see it
in their eyes.
Everyone feels
the need to say:
Okay.