Take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night. But what happens when the stars refuse to shine? What happens when they learn to exhibit his true, obdurate qualities and refuse to grant the desired gifts as he refused to grant them to me? Pain. Deep, searing pain, and a foolish hope that the loves of the sky will be restored. But any entity originating from my quondam lover is of a treacherous nature. Any entity originating from my quondam lover will never be restored. Never, never, never, never, never, not now. Not now. Not anytime soon. But maybe, just maybe, the stars will shine again. But perhaps night's backdrop will evolve into an alternative layout. Perhaps the initial supplier will be overtaken by an authentic maker, a supreme inventor who knows nothing of infidelity. And perhaps this creator will have me. I hope he has me.

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I don't feel right. I'm sitting here, looking at blogs for no reason, listening to unrealistic love songs for no reason, being extremely lazy for no reason, avoiding homework for no reason, checking facebook for no reason, and I could be sleeping. I could be sleeping. Why do I do this to myself? It's sort of sad.

God has a plan for me. He does. I know this now. I need to beat these negative voices that are talking to me, already tempting me. They're telling me how "fat" I am, how I "need" a boyfriend, how no one will like me any other way, how I will find no purpose any other way, but they are wrong. They're wrong, they're wrong, they're wrong. I didn't eat too much today. I'm not gaining weight. Ugggh, leave me alone.