Wednesday, July 18, 2012

I've been putting too much stock into horoscopes.
The tarot card reader told me I felt alone. I laughed at her. You should look at my bookshelf.
My horoscope has been telling me to look out for love lately. Look out, because it might come speeding towards me, full steam ahead, only to crash into me, and explode me into a thousand un-findable pieces? Years could never re-assemble me back into the same person I used to be, the pieces wouldn't fit. Why does love have to be the goal of everything? The good books are the ones that discredit it. I only think that now. Now that I have been re-assembled. Stuttered words that were meant to be seductive, eyes that were meant to allure, and lips that were meant to entice, all appeared ridiculous to me one thousand times over. Often, I burst out laughing.
Yet, I will probably read my horoscope tomorrow. I will probably continue hoping that someone will drop out of the stars, even though I know men do not come from stars. Everybody knows they come from Venus. 

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