I hate The Killers

for filling me to the brim with hope

while that light has long ago flickered into oblivion

Fate.

I believe in the little impossibilities. That you and I are listening to the same song. That we’re looking at the same moon. That I just missed you at the convenience store. I believe that one day the stars will align to defy the odds. I believe that I’ll be waiting in line to order a smoothie and hear that oh so familiar, yet so distant laugh. I believe that I’ll stop breathing, that the world will stop breathing, and a smile will paint itself across my face. I believe that at that moment, and only that moment, will I be overcome with disbelief.

The stars, they all aligned.

At home or in school, the Aries child lives in a world of make-believe and reality, constantly blending, where truth is often portrayed as fantasy, and fantasy is disguised as truth. He may give the impression of exaggerating or even telling lies. But he just can’t help splashing a little color around when he’s relating an incident, and he often convinces himself it really happened that way.

Okay, so I don't really believe I horoscopes, I think they're all codswallop if you ask me. But this is scarily accurate. Mind you, I still don't believe in them, it's just...whoa.

Sick.

When all else fails, pretend to be selfish. Be social. When you want everything they want and talk to them about their interests, that’s when you seem normal. That’s when you fit in. Why are you unhappy when they’re not, they wonder. Perspective? There’s only one. Life is what you make it for them. You are what you look like; that costume in your closet, what you avoid. Not your mind; not who you are.

You’re hounded with voices telling you about this thing you have called liberty, but it’s all just another lie about you. But isn’t lying apart of the job description? What’s an actor but not himself at all times? A lie among art.

I've had all the big breaks I need and more than a few outstanding performances in my repertoire, I'm ready for retirement.

Pain(t)ed

My flight touched down paradise last week;
feels good to be home.
"You look different," my aunt shares when she first sees me.
"Different? How?" I inquire.
"Your eyes.. it's like they're wilting."