You once told me that I’m magic. I’m not convinced. I don’t feel like magic. I don’t feel like I’m made of stardust, like I could change the world, like I’m the hero of anyone’s story, even my own. I don’t feel like anything at all. You tell me I’m wrong.
Don’t you have anything better to do? Can’t you see I drag you down? Drag us down? There isn’t enough oxygen here for the both of us. I can only hold my breath for so long.
“Have a snack,” you say. “Drink some water,” you remind me. “Die you get enough sleep?” you ask. Doesn’t it ever get exhausting? Don’t you ever get tired of it? Of trying to fix me?
To the moon and back. If we miss, we’ll land among the stars. We’re all made of stardust. It’ll feel like going home.
Love isn’t about finding your other half. Your missing piece. Your soulmate. It isn’t easy. It takes work.
Me and you can work. I promise not to run if you promise not to hold on so tight. I promise not to stand still if you promise to never let me go. We can be made of magic, of stardust, traveling to the moon, going home.
Love wasn’t enough for us. Enough for you. We weren’t two pieces of the same whole. We were barely even strangers.
To the moon and back? We didn’t even make it through the atmosphere, fires catching on each “I still care for you”, spreading to the “it’s not you, it’s me”’s, till finally all that was left of our ship was bittersweet memories of half-forced smiles and the acrid smell of burnt plastic.
Have you even thought about me since? Did you hurt? Did you cry? Or did I cry so much to make up for the lack of tears on your end? Did I walk so close to the edge to balance out how quickly you ran away? Do you even know how much I’m still hurting?
Don’t. Please. You swallowed up all of the air, lungs at full capacity, leaving mine to burn. I can’t hold my breath any longer. Please.
You once told me that I’m magic. I’m convinced now. Because what else could have caused a gap to appear between us so suddenly? What else could have pushed you away so resolutely? I must be made of stardust, floating coldly in the vast emptiness of space, lightyears away from any semblance of warmth. But even with all of the magic, the grains of stardust slipping through my fingers, I still feel like nothing. And you don’t say anything at all.