These past few weeks I have been surrounded by people I hardly know. I have either just met them or might as well have just met them. They are people who see one side of me. They are people who love me for my wit and my charm. They are people who I wouldn't want to see more of me. And its hard. Its hard when the more of me is so strong and the rest of me increasingly getting weaker.

Often people say, "I wish I was ..." and then they name a place that would somehow make things better. Disneyland, home, asleep. However, there is a sad deep feeling found when you want to say "I wish I was ..." but cannot think of anything. There is a sad deep feeling when you try to touch the stars and just get your hands dirty. It is not only a loss of hope but a gaining of terrible. Terrible overtakes your life. Terrible seeps in through the cracks, weaving its way through hallways and conversations.

It is so depressing to think there is no where I want to be. It is so depressing to think that this moment sucks and so does the next and no one really knows when it will stop sucking.

I want to touch the stars. I like to imagine that I can reach them, that when I'm a little older, when a few days pass, or a few hours, that I will be able to reach up and pull something down. That I will be able to hold on to something shiny, and beautiful, and perfect. I have no energy to stretch my arm out. I have no hope that those stars are actually obtainable. Yesterday someone reached up and got one. They were so happy. So I reached and reached and found Terrible. Isn't it easier to pretend the stars don't exist? If we pretend the stars don't exist then we also pretend that Terrible doesn't exist. Terrible is a beautiful thing when it is non-existant.

So please, stars, go away.