Someday I'll be an Astronaut

I stand beneath a starless sky. It's cloudy, tonight, like looking into a puddle when the dirt is swirling around in it, masking anything that might lie beneath its surface. It seems like it's always like this, when I'm upset. When I -need- to see the stars and the moon. When I need that comfort.1

Noise thunders in my ears. People screaming. Music blaring. Bodies colliding.2

I sigh. No comfort for me here. I'm not entirely sure there ever was.3

I would tell you about the beginning, if I were at all sure of it myself. But then, I never liked looking at the past too closely. Or maybe that was just my excuse about failing history. Either way, it seems to work for me. So it looks like I only have the present to concern myself with.4

Even as I try to make myself believe this, I remember...I always remember.5

-"I'm hungry," I say, completely miserable. I sit there in high heels and my special brown skirt that I made myself a long time ago. My long black hair is even pulled back in a high ponytail, away from my thin face with its high cheekbones, sloped nose, and sharp blue eyes. I have a funeral to go to, later on. I hate funerals.6

"Then lets get food," he replies, a little uncomfortably. It upsets him, most of the time, that I always insist on paying for things. It doesn't bother me. He's always broke. Spends his money on friends even more than I do, which is saying something.7

"Where do you want to go? Anywhere you want," I say, smiling.8

"Anywhere? Then let's go to the moon."9

My smile broadens. He loves the moon. I love that he loves the moon. "Why there?" I ask.10

He smiles in return. I love his smile. It's more gorgeous than a sunset. Makes my eyes water with the beauty of it. "I've just always thought that would be a neat place to go."-11

I sigh, disheartened. Maybe I'll never get over it. I'm not entirely sure I want to. When he was with me, I had never felt happier, even during my most miserable moments. It seems like if I let him go, I will lose the possiblity of that happiness forever.12

He's still my friend. Of course he is. It seems like he drifts from me, but he's my -friend-. I would be nowhere without him.13

The clouds drift slightly, and I can see a sliver of the moon protruding from behind the dirty clouds. It's only a small piece, but it's enough.14

-I go to the movies with my friends. All but him, because his family has claimed him for the night. I ache at his absense, but I can't always have him with me, much as I regret it.15

We sit in the dark room, one friend on the left, stealing my hard earned candy as I threaten her with glitter, another on my right, brooding as he always does because he thinks he loves me, the prick. The previews haven't even started yet, but we're always uncomfortably late or uncomfortably early, and this time we had been both, missing the first showing and having to settle for the next, which was an hour later than our arrival.16

I feel my phone vibrate and know it's him. I read the text eagerly, lapping up every word like a dehydrated pup. Practically slathering over it.17

"Do you see it?" he asked.18

Without any thought for the movie, I excused myself and ran outside. I looked for a good ten minutes before I sighed, realizing the sky was too cloudy.19

"Tell me what it looks like," I ask him pleadingly.20

"It's red," he says. "Nearly full, with little bits of copper in it."21

I sigh. "Can't see it. Must be beautiful, though."22

"Yeah. Harvest moon. I love it."-23

That had been early spring. The weather had just been getting warmer, and I had already switched to flip-flops, the next best thing to going barefoot. But now fall is beginning to stretch its icy tendrils toward me. I've reluctantly started wearing jackets again and nearly cry when I think how great the summer had been.24

Tonight is good, though. It's warm, though it might just be the crowds milling around me. Couples making out on their plastic sheets that are their only protection from the muddy ground. Some I'm afraid might get x-rated soon, if no one takes a moment to remind them that we're in a public place. Groups of drunken morons and not so drunken idiots slam into eachother with increasing force, practically trying to kill each other without knocking anyone over. I'm at a concert, but I haven't been paying attention. I'm just distracted.25

He's dancing, there, right in front of me. Well, he's doing his Mosh Pit dance, throwing punches into the air and overbalancing so that he accidentally falls on top of everyone. It hasn't escaped my attention that the only direction he never falls in is mine. I wonder why that should make me jealous, but it does. It seems I'm the only minor exception to his world of pleasure and discord. He's barely come near me since...well...Since -then-.26

-"I'm not sure if I can love you," he tells me, and I know the words come hard to him. They sure as hell aren't a picnic for me. Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure I started cussing a lot more, after that day.27

I try not to be bitter, list off the numerous girls he had dated who had broken his heart or whose hearts he had broken. One of them is a lesbian, now. Another had been bisexual, for a while. I wanted to be mean and tell him it was a trend. I didn't believe it. Didn't even care, really. It was his own business. It's why I didn't say it, though I could have. Could have pointed out that any one of those girls he had felt like he could love.28

Why do I have to be different? People acknowlege it. Point it out reverently. I'm -different-, but it's not a bad thing. Or, it wasn't. I'm not so sure about that. Different probably isn't the right word. Defective might sum me up a little better. Welcome to my pity party. Defective little me is being dumped.29

I have come to expect that sort of treatment, anyway. Not because he is a bad guy, but because he is too good. I'm not sure where I stack up.30

"I still want to be your friend". Though he is the one that says it, I want that more than anything. I can live with this hurt, as long as he's -there-. As long as he's -somewhere-.31

I smile. "No worries. If that's the way you feel...It's your decision." I lie. No worries. There are plenty of worries. Like the stabbing pangs that just started ripping through my chest. Yes, those are definitely worrisome.32

A few more awkward moments pass. Finally, he leaves me sitting alone in the car, not sure what to do with myself. By the time I manage to drive myself back to town, I have stopped being able to force air down my lungs. It isn't night, but even if it were, I still would not have searched the sky for comfort as I so often do. I will not look back up at the sky for a very long time.-33

Have you ever been stabbed? With a spoon? Spoons are pretty dull objects, so it takes more force to do damage with it. Hurts a lot worse. I've been stabbed with plenty of spoons, and don't ask me why because I don't feel like getting into that right now. Let me tell you, though...Compared to what I felt right at that moment, I would have rather been stabbed in the chest with a rusty plastic spoon and have someone root around in there for a while than experience that sort of agony again. There aren't words to describe it. It just sort of...is what it is.34

And it was that way from the beginning. Even after most of a year has passed by, I still feel that way. Still cry every night over the boy who rusty plastic spoons jammed in my chest can not compare to. I learned to hide the tears. Figured out how to make myself act like everything is fine. Cut off all my long, gorgeous hair. Twice. Got a tatoo. And every time I see him, I die a little inside. And every time I see him, I'm happier than I could ever be without his friendly smiles and strong hugs. He still makes me feel whole.35

He turns around to see me watching him dance, then grins broadly, pointing behind me. I turn and look, not sure what he's pointing at.36

"The moon!" he finally exclaims.37

I look up to see the silver disk in the sky. It looks so breakable from here, like I could flick at it and it would fall from its shelf and crash to the floor like fine china.38

He's already turned around, but I still stare wide eyed at the moon. It was the first time since he had broken up with me that he had felt the need to show me the moon. Even as I died, my heart felt so alive again.39

It suddenly strikes me why he affects me so much. Why I can't let him go. See, as much as he loves the moon, I love him. He affects the tides of my heart, gives me light in my darkest moments, and keeps the muddy sky of my world beautiful. It's a one sided love, because I can't touch him. I don't affect him at all, except to try and pull him close as he drifts away. I think the Earth worships the moon in the same way, because the moon doesn't really need the Earth. It is cold and strong and distant and lovely.40

Unfortunately for the moon, it is alone. But someday...someday I will refuse to be the Earth. I will become an astronaut, and then I'll build my ship and finally reach him like I was always afraid to do. Someday, I'll be an astronaut.41

But for now, I'm just a mound of dirt.