what stars are made of

her laugh is soft, and when she laughs at something i said, i blush and look away. she borrows a skirt i own- black with flowers all over it- and when i tell her it looks prettier on her, she dismisses me, flustered. you'd say that , she says with a giggle, and i smile because i would, of course. that doesn't make it any less true. she sits me down on a chair and braids my hair, then covers my eyes with her hands until i'm facing the mirror. i open my eyes, and laugh at the face in the mirror that doesn't look like me. what's funny , she asks, laughter rippling in her chest. i don't answer. can you sing to me, she whispers, small in the darkness of the night.  i don't sing, i say, that's not something you want to hear.  she curls up into herself, even smaller. she wakes up cold.  + her laugh was soft, and i'd never heard her laugh before. when she laughed at something i said, i blushed and looked away. she borrowed a skirt i owned- bla

darling nobody, i am greeted at the airport by beaming faces, and handed a bouquet of roses that i do not get the time to savour, before i am whisked away to smile for photographs. the warmth of the people makes my nervous smile more genuine, and in that moment, i am less afraid of the months that lie ahead of me. i utter broken phrases in spanish, but more than that- i nod and smile, occasionally tilting my head to indicate that i don't understand. you can rest today, i am told, you will meet everyone tomorrow.  i look out the window as my host mother drives- it's exciting, looking out and seeing wider streets, bigger houses and a bluer sky. my host mother and i try to communicate, all laughs, broken phrases and some failed attempts. i love it. i love the thrill of it all, the uncertainty of what will happen tonight and what will happen tomorrow, having no idea where i'm going. we stop to buy water at the supermarket, and my eyes widen as soon as i step inside. the

he looks at the sky that night, and there are no stars– not that he expected any different. the stars lie in the eyes of the boy asleep next to him, the boy who's been asleep for hours now. it is three in the morning, after all. not everyone's mind races as much as his own, so much that they stay up all night– thinking, worrying, fearing. they met eight days ago, and now they're sleeping under the same roof, as the rain falls heavily– the only sound for miles. he holds him, only because it is freezing cold– atleast, that's what he tells himself. it's been seven days since the rain decided to destroy the town, and it hasn't stopped since then. it's the only sight he remembers seeing, the only sound he remembers hearing. the beauty of the rain has long worn off. rain isn't creation anymore: it is destruction. the boy next to him sighs, and buries his face in his shoulder. it is instantly warmer. the thoughts don't stop there. he is afraid of the

darling nobody, i write today from the plane to mexico, and i am all negative emotions. hope finds its way through sometimes, but it's mostly just fear. fear that i made the wrong decision, this is such a long time– a fluttery feeling in my heart, i want to go back . i've been wondering if the sky is bluer in the west. i try to remember that i will finally get to see for myself, and i am a little calmer. i look out the window and bite back tears. i don't speak to the boy seated next to me because i'm too wrapped up in my own thoughts. and then i sleep– i sleep a lot. flights aren't that bad , i think, i don't know what all the fuss is about . we stop in the city of love, my limbs sore from sitting for too long. we've been warned by everyone already: the french are cold, the french are unfriendly. they will not help you if you do not speak their language. the experience at the airport is quite the opposite. people smile at us warmly without hesitance,

today, we are grey  hazy, blurring into nothingness today, you will disintegrate  if i lay a finger upon you-- fragile , the world screams, handle with care today, you sound like the pattering of the rain  and i am merely a whimper, a groan, an exhausted sigh today, we are grey  and you taste like nothing  but water droplets on my lips-- and i don't want the cloudy sky,  i detest everything it stands for- but i'm drowning in the grey. i whisper in your ear that the rain will fall today,  and i will let it  for, today, my love,  we are grey. 

darling nobody, i have never been more afraid. i do not want to leave. it feels like i can't: like i'm pushing against a band of elastic, trying to be free, but i keep falling back onto the mud where i belong. i don't like it. it's all pointless. going away is pointless, staying is pointless. if you don't leave now, you will never be able to – but there is only fear in my stomach; fear, and homesickness that has made itself at home already. i haven't even gone away yet. i cried myself to sleep last night. it was bitter sobbing– my face all scrunched up, as i choked on my own breath. i cried for everything i'm about to lose, for everything i've already lost and will never get back. i know i made the choice to leave, but i don't know if it's the right choice. i'm hoping things will get clearer as time passes. right now, i don't know what's on the other side. i can't even see the other side. when i was younger, my mother told me tha