A trip around the space

Take me to the space,
And I will step my feet on Venus,
Ask her how it feels like to be alone.
For she has no moons around,
And still, she manages to shine bright.

Take me to the space,
And I will land on the moon,
Beg her to tell me a story about the sun.
For she cannot shine without him.
And he cannot exist when she's up.

Take me to the space,
And I will dance on the Jupiter,
With the other 67 moons that Jupiter has.
I will ask Jupiter if 67 moons are enough for a big planet.
Because sometimes, it still gets lonely no matter how crowded it is.

Take me to the space,
And I will go to my home,
Where only one moon shines upon me.
Where I can see Venus on the evening sky.
Where Jupiter is hard to see despite its size.
Where I can look to the sky and count the stars, noticing how we are nothing but stardusts.

I've never been this scared and shaken up before. I don't even know what I'm feeling. Scared. Sad. Angry. Mad. Confused. Everything. Never have I cried this long before. It's all eating me alive and no matter how hard I tried to not think about it, it just stays on the back of my mind and forces me to think about all the possibilities that could happen to me. I wonder how many tears I'm going to waste in these couple of days.

I'm scared. God, I'm terrified.

Excerpt from a book I'll never write #6

I remember that you don't like to buy a new pair of jeans until the old ones are really worn out. Well, I guess I am your old worn out jeans that you used to love so much but now I don't fit you anymore so you get a new pair of jeans and left me in the back of your closet until I am buried in dust and dirt.

Help!

So happy to know that my essay gets featured on Voices of Youth (a website organized by UNICEF)! My aim is to have at least 4 more essays there so that I could compete against the others. I am also hoping for more comments from everyone!

A little help would be nice! :)

Here's the link. 

Thank you!

Sometimes I wish I were someone else, living a completely different life in a different place, knowing different people, having different personality.

Excerpt from a book I'll never write #5

I remember the first time I leaned my head on your shoulder or the first time you held my hand so tight. I remember how you would text me everyday just to make sure I was okay. And now here I am, leaning on the wall of my 2 bedrooms apartment and holding a cheap bottle of beer with tears running down my cheeks. I don't even know what enters my mouth anymore, my tears or the beer? All I know is my throat burns like hell and that I've been sending you a lot of drunken texts and calls saying how much I miss you but all I get is a distant sound of you and some other girl.

He is a raging fire and I am a blown out candle. He lits me up, but in the end, his fire will burn out the candle until it completely disappears.

Excerpt from a book I'll never write #4

"Forever." He says confidently.

And her minds is a chaos. She never believes in a concept of forever. How can someone promise a forever when no one knows about tomorrow? We never know about what's going to happen tomorrow or next year, let alone forever.

He might meet a beautiful girl tomorrow in a cafe and instantly falls in love with her. He might talk with a girl in a bus and falls in love with the way she thinks. He might fall in love with someone else's eyes, someone else's laughter and smile and then he'd completely forget all about me and my dull eyes. He'd forget why he fell in love with me in the first place and everything would be gone.

No, forever is a very very long time and no one can promise a forever.

"The happiest people don't have the best of everything, they just make the best of everything"

The question is,
How do you make the best of everything?

It's funny how a year ago you wished to end up with him and now you wish to end up with another one and there is a chance that a year from now on, you'll wish to end up with someone you don't even know, now.

It's funny how feelings can jump from a person to another person and to another person just because of the time.

excerpt from a book I'll never write #3

"How much in love were you that night?" I finally said, "when you first kissed me on our third date,"

"So much. I was so in love with you that night and it was that kind of love that consumed every inch of my body."

"And how much in love are you now?"

"So much," He paused, "But, it's not you anymore... things did change, didn't it?" He continued, "And besides, you never really believe in love, anyway."

"Things changed, didn't it? I changed my mind about love and you changed your mind about loving me," She let out a bitter laugh, "yeah, things really did change."

Blank Canvas

You would never be able to paint her. She's a picture of thousand birds soaring and dancing through the evening sky, a picture of freedom. She's a picture of black and white and yet a picture of a colorful rainbow you wish to see after a heavy rain. She's a picture of thousand shining stars on the night sky. A picture of light and gold. She's a picture of green forest you'd have no problem getting lost in. A picture of deep blue ocean where you'd like to drown yourself in. A picture of perfection.

She's an art, and like other arts, not everyone can understand her. She's an art with so many hidden meanings.

And yet, she's also a white blank canvas, waiting for someone to paint her smile. Waiting for someone to unwhite the canvas. Waiting for someone to put emotions on her.

Excerpt from a book I'll never write #2

"Never fall in love with a writer."

"Why?"

"Because he will say the most beautiful words to describe you. He will say that your eyes are seas he has no problem drowning in for days and that the freckles on your cheeks are constellation he'd love to trace for the rest of his life. He will write you poems about how your laugh sounds better than the singing birds on a summer day or how your smile can cure cancer and stop wars. But believe me, in the end, you'd be the one writing poems about heartbreaks and tears and his name will appear on every page of your diary and no one could stop you but him."

"But I already did. Fall in love with a writer, I mean."

"Oh. How did he describe your eyes?"

"He said my eyes are bluer than the sky and that he wouldn't mind getting lost in them,"

"Well, good luck, I guess."

excerpt from a book I’ll never write #1

It was when he looked at me with his cold blue eyes did I realize that he didn't deserve every poem I wrote about him. He didn't deserve any love letters I didn't send to him. The emptiness in his blue eyes told me everything I had yet to know. He was never a saint. He was the boy my mom warned me about. But oh God, writing about him was an addiction I couldn't stop. It was an ecstasy. Whenever my pen meets my paper, his name was the first thing that popped up in my mind and in the end, I would write about how his blue eyes kill me in the most beautiful way.