“Don’t you just wish you could reach up and grab the stars?” The girl asked, eyes turned upwards and arms outstretched.

“Not particularly.” This came from the boy in the corner, arms folded and leaning against a part of the railing that was shrouded in shadows.

“I’d like to make a crown of stars,” she went on dreamily, oblivious to his tone and the fact that he was staring blankly at the floor.

Her eyes sparkled as she gazed towards the heavens, filled with hopes and dreams of one who hasn’t let the world crush their spirit. Her very soul danced with the promise of something great.

He looked at her now with something like pity creasing his brow. His lips parted to tell her she was being foolish, but something in her face as she turned towards him made the boy pause.

“My dad told me that all I had to do was snap my fingers and the world would be mine,” she whispered, “he said that dreams aren’t just for sleeping if you believe hard enough.”

The boy remained silent, looking at her. She was so innocent, so unscathed by the cruelty of the world around her. It angered him. He wanted to yell, to scream in her face that she was an idiot and stupid and delusional. He wanted to snatch up that light in her eyes and snuff it out, if only because if he didn’t break her now, someone else would later on and it would hurt much, much worse.

But he said none of those things. He had been just like her once. Full of dreams and possibilities and hope. Before those things had been stolen from him. Shattered like glass and driven into his soul until he was nothing more than an empty shell. Broken. Angry. Numb.

He would not ruin her. As she gazed heavenward, he stepped up to the railing next to her and rested his arms next to hers. She smiled at him and pointed as a shooting star went soaring down.

“Do you think it’s possible?” She asked, her voice still barely above a whisper; “To touch the stars?”

He pondered for a moment, eyes on the horizon.

“I think when you’re already a star,” he whispered slowly, “anything is possible.”

She smiled.

It’s not really contentment. Well I don’t think it is anyway. It’s not that i’m fine with what i have, It’s that i understand that i don’t need more I don’t deserve more

It’s not really that i’m greedy
That i want more constantly It’s more like I’m hungry starving That I will always need more

It’s not really that I’m lazy Never doing more than I need to Just living a life that will pass in an instant So what is the point in trying so hard? When in the end It won’t matter. I can’t take my success with me into death. And I can’t take my regret. It’s just not worth the effort.

It’s not that I’m ignorant I realize I’m gonna die
eventually and i realize that there’s not enough time to do everything i want to do but how can i be expected to just accept that? how can i just accept that i can only be one thing?

It’s not that i’m ready to die But I understand that nothing i do Nothing will matter. Not really, people try to combat that argument with “well you are helping people now” but they don’t understand that they don’t really matter either They are just making life different for the next generation and the next and the next and the next and it will continue until we as the human race go extinct. And then, none of it will matter

It’s not that I don’t have passion I do but I have too many How do I choose? I want to be an artist living in Venice and drinking wine and looking over a sunlit peninsula I want to be a writer in a cabin in the woods of switzerland looking over the snowy plains I want to go to a high university and soeak greek and act like the world is still like back in ancient times I want to play sports I want to learn languages I want to learn about people what makes them, them? what makes me, me? I want to live a hundred lives with a hundred different friends and family. I want to be loved I want to be revered I want to be everything

I just don’t have enough time

It’s not that we can’t survive as we are sometimes that’s the point to just soak it up and try to live the lifes we were given

I’ve been in your shoes Wanting everything at the palm of your hand To have everything so you can be happy But thats the problem with your plan

What does everything mean to you Money? Clothes? Maybe Love You’ll get your everything And find that it isn’t enough

I found no use in striving for that goal The pain got old as I found new lows I’d hit my goal and sit to rest I’d have everything one moment, then I’d have less

I’d crave more because I never had it all I’d climb so high, just to fall I learned to find peace in my big three Jesus, Passions, and Love have set me free

I don’t want anything more Because it may take from others I’ll keep my father, my passions and the joy from my lover

He wanted everything I wanted nothing

He looked to the future While I only saw the present

He wanted to explore the world I loved our small town

The bigger the better for him Better something than nothing for me

He wanted the world for us I just wanted him

Everyone thought it wouldn’t work We saw it would

Everything just clicked Nothing would separate us

We were a counter balance To the worlds craziest moments

To the world, we were just a thing To us, we were the world

I don’t need everyone to like me I don’t need somebody to fight me I don’t need someone to pick me up when I fall

I don’t need someone to cry on I don’t need someone to die on I don’t need somebody to kiss me I don’t need someone to miss me I don’t need someone to hold me I don’t need someone to love me I don’t need someone to call I don’t need anyone at all ———————————————————

I just need somebody to hold me I just need somebody to scould me I just need somebody to love me I just need somebody to hate me

I need someone to cry on I need eyes that I could die on I need a face at night I need someone to be a light I need someone to miss me I need someone to kiss me I need someone to want me I need someone to be in a swirl I just need the world

Minimalist Maximus Living quietly Living robust

She’s obnoxious He’s impossible She’s loud He’s insufferable

June 23, 2024

Dear Mr. Nothing,

I saw the mailman leave letters at your door. It’s stacking and I’m worried. I’ve tried to call you and text. Nothing. I asked you how you’re feeling and if you’re hungry or thirsty. If you want some company even. You said you didn’t want anything. Not even a gift or money to help you. It’s almost as if you don’t want to be indebted to your friends and family. I feel that. I do, but at some point when you hit rock bottom you’ll realize they were there for you when you couldn’t be there for yourself. That they aren’t reaching out because they have to or because they want to pester you, but because they care about you.

I see you refuse their gifts during birthdays and Christmases. You don’t stay longer than 10 minutes on the phone. As long as it takes to walk up our stairs you’re closing the door and hanging up the phone. You respond with, “sure, some other time.”But that time never comes. Why do you want for nothing? - Yours, Miss Everything

June 25, 2024

Dear Miss Everything,

Normally I don’t read the letters I recieve, but yours caught me off guard. I didnt think you’d go as far as to write me. And yes, I do see your missed calls and texts. I guess I look at life differently than most. I’m content in my own world. I have my books and work to keep me happy, but you don’t see that. This nothingness is quite nice, its peaceful really. I’m not lonely per se, but rather I live alone. Sometimes I think I want more, but there hasn’t been anyone to challenge my beliefs. Who knows though, I think you’ve changed my mind? Would you like to get lunch together? Perhaps to talk about everything in person?

• Warmest regards, Mr. Nothing

Everything Alan owned fit in one single, cardboard box. He prided himself on that: the fact that his life, if he needed to move or relocate or escape in an emergency, could fit in one box. Thats what he was doing now, walking down the New York streets to a new location, when he met Erin, unloading his belongings from a wide body van.

“I have the couch, but let’s get a new one?” Alan heard the man say as he hauled a box to the walk-up. He stood on the outskirts and watched as belonging after belonging was unloaded, with the man talking about buying more things, tradings old things for new things, and keeping most everything from his previous location.

Erin didn’t notice Alan until he waved, and he slowly waved back. He didn’t know him but wouldn’t say new friends. Erin wanted it all.

Alan, though, didn’t want to meet Erin. He didn’t want anything. He just wanted his box, and to be on his way. Or so he had thought …

It was dark outside, and two people decide to go for a walk. One of the people wants everything in the world possible, the other wants nothing. They are opposite people; however, opposites attract, correct?

As they were walking in their separate directions, the bump into each other and the one that wants nothing spills his coffee. They looked at each other, both blushing with both romance and embarrassment, “I’m sorry” the other man says, “can I buy you another one?” He apologizes, “did you just ask me out?” The less greedy one said, “yes”.

They both end up at a near by restaurant, both dressed comfortably. “So, what’s your name?” The one that wants everything inquired, “Tyler” the one that doesn’t want anything replied, “what’s yours?” “Jackson”.

Love was in the air that night. Nobody knows why or how, but it was a relationship linked for life. 2 years after first meeting, Jackson and Tyler got married; they adopted 2 babies, Kyle and Caley Robinson. Sadly, 20 years after marriage, Tyler passed away due to cancer. Kyle was 23 and Caley was 22.

Love can happen anywhere, even just a random accident. (Happy pride month) ❤️🏳️‍🌈

"An orange, I think.  I would like to eat the world as though it were a gigantic orange, Not nicely, in sections, either,  Truthfully, with juice dripping." Silence. Leaning my head against the bark, the oak who has lived three of my lifetimes. "Can you hear me?" Perhaps a century of too many confidences has made it deaf.  "I said I want my joy to be a scandal.  I want days light with laughter and nights heavy with wine.   And dancing, obviously,  What's the point without dancing?" Silence. Does it even know how to dance?  A tilt of the uppermost branches in the wind suggests it might. "I want people to look at me and say, after they have judged me behind their hands, She is really living!" Silence. A different  texture this time. Warm, grandfather silence. "Are you even listening to me?" Quiet, root-deep. "What have you got to say for yourself?" The roots do not speak,  They draw up as they wish, The branches spread themselves wide without asking permission. My confidant knows only one word,  All-purpose, used for storms and newly-built nests and blight and a fresh crown, Whispered now as the leaves are brushed by passing fingers, "Yes."