Status: Completed
Stealing Stars
Prologue
If I could reach up and grab some stars I would. I would pocket them and then run home and put them in a jar so I could watch them light up my room like lightening bugs. The stars would help guide me through my life and to them I’d be forever thankful.
But in reality I can’t steal stars from the night sky nor can I figure out why I am so sad. I have my wonderful life while there are children in Africa who deserve it more than me. I’m lost and I can’t talk to anyone because they won’t understand. They will never understand.
I fear many things. I fear of dying before I can accomplish something good. I fear insects that can kill. I fear of losing myself to a world of incessant hate. But most of all I fear living; for living is hard and dying is just so, so easy. In the words of Emily Dickinson, “To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.” I don’t believe that truer words have ever been spoken.
I love the beach. It is plain and simple and I believe that some of the best things in life are. It doesn’t change. The beach will always have sand and surf and the secrets that only the ocean knows. I’d kill to know some of those secrets. The secrets that could change the way I am in life. I could become someone else, someone like the carefree teenagers that I watch roam the seemingly endless beach.
I used to be like them. Like those carefree people who can cruise through life as if they aren’t afraid of anything. But then suddenly my world disappeared and I entered a new world that I just didn’t know how to fit into. But no matter what world I’m in, mine or someone else’s there is one common factor: Blake Gunner.
Blake Gunner has lived next door to me for as long as I can remember. I used to watch him and his older brother, Conrad, play outside during the summer from my living room window. That was my first mistake.
My second was letting them see me.
Conrad waved to me to come outside; I didn’t budge. I was six then and so was Blake but Conrad was twelve, so he was somewhat grown up. But my mother saw the gesture and practically through me out the front door. But mistake number three was way worse than both of the other two.
My third mistake was believing that Blake was everything that he seamed on the surface. Let me tell you: He isn’t.
But in reality I can’t steal stars from the night sky nor can I figure out why I am so sad. I have my wonderful life while there are children in Africa who deserve it more than me. I’m lost and I can’t talk to anyone because they won’t understand. They will never understand.
I fear many things. I fear of dying before I can accomplish something good. I fear insects that can kill. I fear of losing myself to a world of incessant hate. But most of all I fear living; for living is hard and dying is just so, so easy. In the words of Emily Dickinson, “To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.” I don’t believe that truer words have ever been spoken.
I love the beach. It is plain and simple and I believe that some of the best things in life are. It doesn’t change. The beach will always have sand and surf and the secrets that only the ocean knows. I’d kill to know some of those secrets. The secrets that could change the way I am in life. I could become someone else, someone like the carefree teenagers that I watch roam the seemingly endless beach.
I used to be like them. Like those carefree people who can cruise through life as if they aren’t afraid of anything. But then suddenly my world disappeared and I entered a new world that I just didn’t know how to fit into. But no matter what world I’m in, mine or someone else’s there is one common factor: Blake Gunner.
Blake Gunner has lived next door to me for as long as I can remember. I used to watch him and his older brother, Conrad, play outside during the summer from my living room window. That was my first mistake.
My second was letting them see me.
Conrad waved to me to come outside; I didn’t budge. I was six then and so was Blake but Conrad was twelve, so he was somewhat grown up. But my mother saw the gesture and practically through me out the front door. But mistake number three was way worse than both of the other two.
My third mistake was believing that Blake was everything that he seamed on the surface. Let me tell you: He isn’t.
♠ ♠ ♠
Comments make me feel like people out of John Green novels : )