The Unhappy Stories

The unhappy stories. The ones hidden in the dark. Shrouded, soon, by forgetting, while ever so revived by remembrance. Always, they will outnumber the fairytales that end well, end in sunshine, end showing in the light. The ones that you joy yourself over and in delight, the ones that make you jealous, the ones that you use to shield yourself from the rest.
The unhappy stories, you always find yourself playing parts of. Playing roles in.
Wondering, if ever you will get another set of story, another set of lines, where you don't plunge into the usual traps, where you don't let yourself go only to find that you have nowhere to fall. Smiling, in the gloom, because you know that you won't...
And that it will only make you stronger.

I took my pillow last night. I took my quilt. I took my teddy bear. And moved over to the other side of the room, away from the bed, onto the sofa. Lay there. Stared out the window. Stared at the sky. Feeling less lonely on a narrow couch than in a wide bed.
And it made a difference.
The only change of scenery that feels possible for me right now.
The only other world I can make for me.
I want to cross the world and the universe, but here I am, only holding the power to cross to the other side of this room, to a place where it's a tad easier just seeing the stars.
The same stars you see.
What can I do but embrace it?

You'll find me there again tonight.
You'll find me there again tomorrow.
I'll be sleeping where ever I lay my head to rest, and that'll be my home.
I can pretend that I'm sleeping under the starry sky. I can pretend I have all you guys beside me. There, in my other world, you're closer than you'll ever be, when dreams are all the means for me.