TC: We Are All Made Of Stars

We lay on your red carpet after we drank too much and by morning the fabric would surely hold the smell of cheap cigarettes, but you wouldn’t worry about that now, maybe later, now all you needed was to lay still with me and look through the window and wonder


why?

And I said: what, why? Why do you need to know? What does it matter?

We’ve grown up being told we need a reason for everything, that there’s a meaning behind every single thing and if only you figure out what it is, you’ll succeed, you’ll have made it. Wake up, make your bed, get out, be nice, work hard, eat well, be nicer, work harder, read good books, say your prayers, go to sleep, have peaceful dreams. Repeat.

But it’s not for us, darling, it never was. I don’t believe in a higher meaning, nor do I need a purpose to live for. I believe in us, in life, in the magical reality of everything around us. Look at it, then look again, look harder because I can’t make you see until you want to. 
This is it. This is all there is to it, and it’s wonderful enough as it is. I don’t believe in god or praying. I don’t believe in heaven or hell. There’s no afterlife I’m hoping for, no deadline I’m dreading. I don’t need to know what we’re put on earth for - I don’t believe we were put on earth to begin with. We became and here we are.

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