I am slowly dying, but nobody’s noticing. I am not a star; I am just a moon – pretending to have my own glow and brilliance, but just borrowing from a star’s beauty. I’ve been dead for a long time but I was able to bask in another star’s glory. But that star is now dying and everyone is anticipating its magnificent death. Nobody will be mourning for me as I go back to my dead self, waiting for another star willing to share its luster to me.
I was never good at directions, but I never realized that I could get so fucking lost. I’m wandering aimlessly, searching in vain for post signs to guide me to the right directions. I had only my instincts to rely on, but it’s been a roller coaster ride. This is a crash course for me, learning as I embark on this journey. Stumbling, getting blocked, encountering dead-ends, backtracking every now and then – this could be a long one.
I achieved what I had set to accomplished – but why can’t I feel elation? Or vindication? Instead, I feel like the world’s biggest loser.
I saw the star slowly fading into the night. It was a great show, but now the star had disappeared into the vast skies. It will never return. But then, there are still a million stars out there, each with its own beauty. Someday, these will die, too, but not before each of them impress us with their powerful explosions, a one last hurrah before vanishing into oblivion.
"but I’m too crazy and I’m too weak and I’m too busy remembering how to smile and how to be happy. I delight in my pain, and I’m shattered..."
written one September evening '05
under the clear night skies
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