I wonder if soulmates truly exist,

if there is someone for everyone,

another half for each individual.

I wonder if soulmates are friends,

or if they are everyone's final love,

the relationship that ends the rest.

I wonder if anyone truly cares

about the idea of soulmates,

or if this was just an idea made to trick

those gullible enough to believe

there is something more to this life.

I wonder if the idea of soulmates

was created to force people into

a false reality of never being complete.

I wonder if I have fallen into

this false sense of reality,

but if this is true,

I wonder who is here

who is made just for me.

I wonder where they are,

and I hope they come soon.

One small step for man,

One large leap towards ruin,

As we can never stop reaching

For the stars that are not ours.

We aim for civilizations

And planets that are not our own.

Looking for farther and farther solutions

To the problems we face,

To the problems we made.

We harness electricity,

We discover oil,

We destroy our planet

Just to satisfy

Those what-ifs,

Those whispers at the back of our mind.

Just to appease

The curiosity that destroys

What we are working so hard to save.

Looking in through the glass

That separates me and the world.

Seeing all that happens

All the joy

All the romance

All the happiness

That abounds around me

In my glass bubble

Of protection

I cannot participate

I can only watch,

I can only listen,

I can only exist.

There is no one beside me

No one around me

There is

Just

Me.

Why do you

Keep playing the victim?

When you are the one

Causing yourself

All this pain?

Only you to blame

For those scars on your heart,

Making decision to keep

One unworthy love

In your life.

You have the power

To release yourself

From these chains

That shackle your future

To a significant other

Who is undeserving

Of all the love

You have to offer.

Why do you

Keep playing the victim

When you have the power

To change the circumstances

And run away?

My mother always said:

The stars are the limit.

If you can reach them,

Anything is possible.

If the stars are the limit

Of what humanity

Is capable of,

Why do we still reach

For the expanse that lies beyond?

My father reveals:

The stars are a guide,

Leading us further

Into the great beyond,

Where mysteries are unveiled,

Where wonder lies,

And where our imagination

Lead us to discoveries

Of another civilization,

Lying in the stars.

Perhaps my mother said

The stars are the limit

Because she was afraid.

Afraid of the possibilities,

Afraid of my curiosity,

Afraid of me discovering the truth.

Perhaps the stars are the limit

Because my mother did not want me

To find my way home.

It's understanding

That we were not meant to be,

Not the existence

Of our problems that drove us apart. Honestly,

Your insecurities

Matched my own uncertainties. These

Faults are a result

Of living in a world we trusted.

So Sweetheart,

It's not your fault:

It's ours

For trusting a world as flawed as this.

Just a spark on a leaf

Starts the tiniest of embers.

A whisper of a breeze

Sets the leaf alight.

The flames tickle the edges

Of the ground around it,

Starting a blaze

That lights up the night.

The spark is a rumor

That moves in whispers.

The rumor spreads

As do those flames.

The gossip that appears

Burns those in contact,

Much like that blaze

That lights up the night.

The highest highs,

The praise,

The adoration,

The idolization,

All comes to an end

In an instant.

The rushing roars

Of a crowd

Hushed

Into a single whisper.

Silently,

Oh so silently,

You hear

"Did you hear what they did?"

"They took advantage..."

"They messed up..."

"They no longer matter..."

"They're cancelled."

There is a saying:

Everything that goes up,

Must

Come

Down...

Now,

The world decided,

It was your turn

To go

down.

I have always been in a fight with life over what I need and what I want and love. What I need led me to working a job that I can barely stand just to make money. What I love led me back to this site, to explore writing. It has taken me time to understand that things that bring me joy should be celebrated the same as those things that keep my body alive. Without joy, existence is just existence, not life. And I want to go back to living.

I'm a sacrifice

For the people,

Mend me how you need.

For each piece of me,

Is another one for you.

None of this is mine

It's just yours.

Each piece

Sheds itself

From my being,

Until there's nothing left

Besides a false smile,

Lying on the ground

As I tell myself

I'm happy!

This is how it's supposed to be!

Nothing left for myself,

But the fake joy

From giving myself completely

To those strangers.

Forgetting who I am

To fit their perfect dreams.

Forgetting what I was

Besides a sacrifice

For the greater good.

Is this how life's supposed to be?

Just broken pieces of a being,

Left to be fought over by others,

Left to be forgotten as a person,

But remembered as a thing,

But remembered for their sacrifice,

While hiding their unhappiness from the world

While hiding how they truly feel.

Is this how life's supposed to be?

Are we supposed to be nothing more

Than something to be used

For the benefit of others?

Because at this rate,

I'll become nothing more than a sacrifice

Of false smiles and false hopes.

But that's just life.

Isn't it?