you can tell who his friends are because they all look the samejenny eyes


the cosmos

what if we really are the universe. what if all the galaxies are actually fallen loved ones. what if what we see glimmer in the night sky are the dead. what if when we pass on, we become clusters of stars and planets. what if our souls are miraculously encased in vulnerable flesh and once we are released from this life, our energy tears through the concept of time and crushes the notion of order and we explode into universes. what if the heavens are really different heavens. each galaxy made up of souls finally set free into our true forms.

nov. 18, 2015

A girl in dark, grey and black monochrome colors sits in the library at a boxed framed study table with a window-view. This particular seating arrangement was not her first pick. She wanted to reign in a dark study room of her own where she could be lulled by both the shadows and drone of the artificial sounds of the 1975. Sadly, other people had the same idea.

Now, the view is quite lovely in a sense. It is also quite drab. The grass is a revolting mixed shade of brown and green, sort of in between. The girl thinks that the plants should choose to embrace the fall and let go of their spring green. The indecisiveness of it all only reminds her of her own way of decision-making. It is as if the puke-like color of the plants on campus reflect her disgust for the lot of it.

She wonders if the sound of her eating crunchy granola can be heard across the entire floor of the library. She wonders if she ate her PB&J sandwich, would the smell get caught in a person’s nostrils who’s allergic to peanuts and cause them to break out in hives or worse, collapse or something. Then maybe the police would come to search and find the perpetrator and she’d be sitting at the stupid seat she never wanted with “peanutbutter killer” written all over her face.

She wonders why she is so alone and so sad. She wonders if its all in her head. Maybe once her doctors give her the happy pill, she will feel like how girls who walk around with their significant others feel. What is it that makes her so sad? Why is it that her resting face is a frown and her moon eyes are the shade of murky night? Ever since she was a child she has been told that she has big, round eyes full of sadness. Why is it that she always looks like she is about to cry?

The girl lifts her head occasionally to view the rows and rows of empty seats. She sits in the deepest corner of the library floor. Is one really alone? “Of course, not,” she thinks. This makes her think of people in comas and if they are stuck in their dark minds. She thinks of that one documentary she watched that was about people who had returned from death. She wonders if the stories are true. She wonders if the people who come back from the dead or are released from comas make up stories so people will not be afraid that all they saw was darkness.

Seems awfully too nice for humans though.

Maybe, it is a selfish act. Or, it could be an act of humanity.

There is a very fine line between selfish act and humanity isn’t there?

She thinks that maybe people are afraid to approach her because her sadness could infect them like an influenza. Her favorite part of one the 1975 songs is “gotta love it when you love yourself” because it makes her smile every time Matty sings it. She does not remember the name of the song though.  She laughs.


head vs. heart