Shooting stars are just shooting stars.

by 01:42 0 comments


6102-0402

You’ve been watching all these planes fly past tonight and darling, I thought you loved silence but you keep coming up here to breathe in all this noise. It’s not music.

I wish I could tell you that it gets easier when the sun hits the sky and the moon fades away, but it doesn’t. The days are as dreary as the nights, if not more so, reminding you of so many hopes that you wish you could have.

Yet you don’t give up. It’s hard. I know, I get it. It’s really hard to push yourself up, out, to face yourself. The mirror does not lie. It deceives. And yet you move forward, past all this, for what?

You keep dreaming the same dream, day after day, night after night. You don’t give up. And I don’t get why. Has getting hurt become an addiction for you? Or does it feel as normal as breathing, but darling I know breathing does not feel normal anymore.

Suffocating does.
Feeling the weight of the entire world upon your chest does.
Knowing that your lungs could run out on you any second does.
Keeping one foot after the other, aware that you’re walking towards your own doom does.
Wiping your smile off because you don’t think you deserve to do that does.
Forgetting that you know how to laugh, because it feels alien to your ears and painful to your heart does.

Yet you do not give up.

Why would you want to keep up, my darling? Why would you want to keep dreaming the same dream again and again, calling it a nightmare? Why would you want to keep drowning when you know if you let go, just a bit, just a little but, you might float.

And floating isn’t that hard, is it?

I’ve heard it numbs the pain, drowns the memories and kills the fears. You’ve seen it all already. Why go at it again when you know what would happen, when you know what you do not want to happen?




I’m not scared of you, my darling. I’ve never been scared of you, not even for a second.

I’m just scared for you. It frightens me to think what all this is doing to you and it frightens me to realise that I can not help.

Maybe you don’t need my help, maybe you never did, and maybe you never will. I know that I do not need to save you. I am not here for that.

I’m just here to protect you from you.

And it’s getting harder because I know that you keep drowning even though you know how to swim.

I can’t save you, my darling. You have to fight this battle on your own, you have to stand up for yourself, even if your knees are breaking down, your spine is burning and your lungs are on fire. 

You have to stop this bleeding on your own.

You’ve got to stop dancing with the fire if you don’t want to burn. 
And you have to stop chasing storms and breathing in tornadoes.

You’re your own saviour, my darling, even if it means you have to fight yourself to be it.

And I wish you wouldn’t give up.
I really do.