Weaving the most complex, beautifully intricate webs. Gossamer delicate, blown away on the slightest gust of wind. Each of us spins our own webs, growing larger and larger, until they span our entire universes, our lives from birth to death, and everything in between.
We traverse infinities strung together on broken threads of emotion, of life, of dreams.
It’s difficult to realize, at times, just how interconnected our little webs can be.
The paths of our lives – the ups, the downs, the twists and turns – they cross hundreds of others’ in just a blink of an eye. Even the most seemingly inconsequential encounters can shake up a life until nothing, nothing at all, is the same as it was before.
Once upon a time, I dreamed about someone sweeping me off my feet and taking me away from all of this – someone to bring me to my happily ever after.
Once upon a time, I dreamed of someone to save me from this dull existence – someone to take me on daring adventures and exhilarating journeys.
Once upon a time, I dreamed about someone to rescue me from the monsters that lived inside my mind – someone who would finally take away all the pain and make this right again.
I don’t want a superhero. I don’t want a Prince Charming. I don’t want a knight in shining armor.
I don’t want someone to walk into my life and solve all my problems with a snap of his fingers.
I want to solve them myself, now. I want to stare down the demons and the villains and come out damaged, but victorious. I want the tales to be told about me – about my story – instead of just being a human prop.
A/N: I know, I know, I’m terrible, I should be updating more, there are no excuses, etcetera, etcetera.
I don’t want to love you anymore.
I hate the way I am now – the way I act around you, like I’m some blithering idiot who can’t tell the goddamn time of day without you. How I turn into a swooning damsel whenever you just smile at me.
You’ve ruined my writing. Days on end trying to write, every single page thrown in the trash; what used to be my soliloquies on the plight of nations have turned to sonnets on the sound of your voice. I want to be able to write about things like this kid I saw on the street the other day, or the pair of shoes on the side of the road, or anything, anything but you.
I wish I could listen to love songs without thinking of you. Now even the concerts in the shower turn into overemotional messes. And it’s not just the love songs. Happy songs remind me of your voice. Sad songs remind me of your eyes as we said goodbye. Catchy songs remind me of how you love to hum along to songs I don’t know. Everything leads back to you.
You are my sun and moon and stars, but I miss the night sky so much. My world revolves around you, but I can’t help but long for the days when I had my own axis.