The moon, the stars.

It's simple. Our parents yell, anger and pacing, because they're confined angression. Our friends shout because they're not prone to caring. With jokes and games, I could tell them they look fat today, and they'd just smile. "It's a joke," they'd tell themselves in their head. But not about my fat comment. About life. About the worrying and giving a fuck, because they don't. We don't care. We're raised to take in information and let it fizzle out.
We're raised to take the blame and figure out the issue ourselves, even when it wasn't our fault at all.
No, it's still simple though.
The men in their business suits walking down the streets: they have their block-thoughts, concrete-building-thoughts. They have their salary and kids and wife, or husband and kid, or dog, or cat. They have what they go home to at night, and then the morning hour before they leave for work. They have a shower, maybe their morning coffee at three in the morning. They're prone to sleeping problems, because there's something bothering them. Something missing.
Okay, so they're incomplete.
From the ripped jeans and sideways hats, you have your views of importance. Of what matters is status, what matters is who you are friends with, what you do, what you say. It doesn't seem to matter who you are, though. Just everyone else. Everyone else matters but no you, because you are too outwardly focused. Too broad and pathetically captivated in such a small world. But, for them, what's missing?
The content of their character. The thoughts that bring revolutions. They won't be scientists or writers, or actors or anything, because they are small people.
But nevermind them.
Who you need to focus on is the dropouts. The had-a-cause-but-lost-it. I'm sorry, but they're not disappointments. At least they had a why for a while. At least they had a drive behind them, even if they sprinted too soon and it fizzled out.
They still cared.
The people who you need to watch out for is everyone. The next five people you see on the streets all the way to to the last person you meet eyes with before you die. From A to Z and back again. They all matter. They're all people. Even you.
Even me.

The problem doesn't exist. There is no, "None of us truly care about one another." There isn't any of that, because we're all people and we can all care and if you stopped analysing everything and putting labels on it, you'd have an easier time of actually feeling alive.
It's like my bedroom. It's messy, okay? But I never have the time to clean it, and I don't really think I should. I know where everything is when I really need it, and that works for me. Disregard everything and start out fresh or do whatever.

As long as there's something in there, deep in your heart, you're fine.

You know what makes me sleep a little better? At night, when my parents are yelling at each other, the moon shines through my window and onto my walls. It isn't much, but what more do you need than a dream?
My friends and I are okay, because:


We are the kids who worship the moon.

To sail is to learn

"My goal," he said, quite quietly. "Is to be the boy who rocks the boat." The girl passed this off as a sexual reference, although seeing as she'd never ventured down that alley, wasn't too sure.
"Why do you want things stable when you don't get anything from it? I want to brave the storm and sail the waves and learn how to handle the hidden rocks."
The silence stretched out between them. She didn't know how to answer at all, let alone whether she was supposed to. "What happens if you get shipwrecked," she wondered. "What's the point?"
"What's the point if you don't try at all," he countered.

Eddie's heartless

"I often wonder what makes my heart beat," she said, picking the rough yellow grass out of the ground. Lucia watched, eyes tired from the summer air. "It's your blood, isn't it? Oh...I don't know, Eddie. You heart beats because it beats."
Quiet thoughts told Eddie to drop it. Too quiet. "I think I'd be happy," she phrased carefully. "If it would just stop." But her heart didn't stop beating right that moment. It kept on for years until she'd dragged herself through high school and career choices, and boring days at the office. Until she'd followed the mundane path of everyone else, clawing at herself from the inside out. Enough, it decided one day, and that was it for Eddie.
A sad story if you believe it, because there was no heart to be begin with.

Haven't we already

We could build castles together.

We could watch movies on mute and play our music too loud to block out the screaming inside our heads. The acting wouldn't make much sense anymore, but it never does.
I could promise you forever, something that seems so absolutely wrong, and you could make me crowns of lion's  teeth, my most favourite flower ever.
And in the middle of the summer time we could make a rainbow tent just like we did in gym class. And while the world outside is terribly dark we could scream until we cry because that's what crazy people do.

But even this is too much to ask.

So I'll offer my heart, you eat it all up, just like the monsters under my bed. And when it's gone I'll ask to see your badge, but you're aren't real, anyway.

Oh, I'm a liar all right. I'm lying to myself and reality is on my toes.

Someone help me run far, far away?