#mortalsouldreaming

[mortalsouldreaming]

the sky is so tragically beautiful. a graveyard of stars.

[mortalsouldreaming]

How to feel incredibly alive in just over a minute:

Look up The Planets by Gustav Holst

Skip to Jupiter

Go ahead to 2:58

Close your eyes and listen

Dance or cry or whatever you do when you hear good music

You're alive, my friend. Isn't it wonderful?

(thank me later)

[mortalsouldreaming]

the beetle boy:

in 3rd grade, I moved to a new school. I met a a boy there. he and I used to collect bugs in the field by the playground. we found bees and ants and rose beetles; named them. kids killed them. kids "disrespected the grave", as they called it. they never seemed to understand.

not many of them liked me. they went so far as to slap my arms where the occasional firefly rested. all that was left was a smudge of brown blood. I cried. not there, of course- I saved it for when the car rolled into our driveway after a long day. and I bawled, to the comfort and safety of my mother.

after a few weeks of scavenging among the fallen leaves, I found out, from his few snickering friends, that he ~liked~ me. I was confused, the 9 year old that I was. we were kids. I didn't really know what that meant.

we didn't go bug hunting very much after that.

------------------------

now, I realize that he didn't really find bugs too fascinating. just me. and I wonder- why? he spent weeks of recess time to sit in the dirt and stroke bumble bees, and for what?

I saw him at the library the other day- outside, sitting on a bench in the corner. he was a shadow. black headphones, black bag. he scrolled through his phone. he tried so very hard to not be seen. I wonder what's become of him. I wonder if he still has the wonder-filled eyes of who I knew him to be. I wonder if he looks at beetles and ants from time to time, and remembers. I do. sometimes.

rest in peace, beetle boy. thank you for being my friend.

i'm sorry.