I was trying to reach for a distant star, but we are painted on separate canvasses.
And I have been told:
"You are a fool."
"It can only bring you pain."
"You will never be good enough for him, so please, just settle for the world."
If only the world was all I wanted.
I am sitting here, in this room, and what distinguishes it?
Nothing.
I am sitting in a room. Between four blank walls, except for the window I am afraid to look out of. Under a white ceiling, on a chair, near a table.
But I am not thinking about the room. And I am not thinking about what they tell me. I am imagining another room, far away somewhere, caging a star. Holding it there until I get there. Until I arrive…
It's too bad I can't leave this room. Not this room, this room. The room inside my chest that is caging me in. I think:
"At least it is holding me in, so that my heart does not spill out on to the floor. At least I am in one piece."
I think:
"What am I being held here for?"
"Who is coming for me?"
I am sitting, and now I am aware that my knees are shaking, my fingers are drumming on my bare thighs. And now I am aware that I'm not crying, after all.
And they tell me:
"He doesn't deserve you anyway."
"I hate to see you like this."
"We just want you to be happy. We all want…"
Can't they see I am happy? What of this smile on my face? How often do I have to wear it for them to see?
This is happiness.
I mean, isn't it? I am doing what I want, and maybe I know that it's hopeless. As hopeless as catching a snowflake on your tongue. And maybe I…
I don't want to trap a star. They are meant to be free. Their beautyonly grows with distance. I don't want.
But I do. Oh how I want.
I want the way the moon wants the sun: without any hope, without ever seeing his face. I am the moon: a pale reflection. I am a faint reminder of the sun when he is away.
And the sun never shares the sky with me.
But I am not crying, even so. And at least I am in one piece.
I am whole in my chest.