Muse 95: Desperado

source unknown

I'm down three hundred. In the long run of times I've been going out, that's considered a good day. Imagine a fantastic day - I'd be running in the positive numbers, but right now I'm just trying to break even. I count the papers in my hand, registering numbers instead of faces, and wish I had more to tuck underneath my mattress. Yeah, I'm one of those folks. I'd save it in the bank for interest, but I don't even have enough to open an account. These four bills are going towards my monthly payment just to have a roof over my head, and it's depressing. I tuck it under and don't look back. The money is green, but my world is black and white. It only gets darker every time another bill slips away. I should get a job. A proper one with a contract and health insurance, but it's just faster if I hit the jackpot. It's easier that way. And honestly, if it weren't for that queen of diamonds, I would've won. 

Fuck it. I need another cigarette. 

I'll be luckier next time.

Muse 92: Another World

found via adelee

I've heard stories about fish people or mer-people - well, people that live beneath the water. They breathe underwater and suffocate on land; glide between rivers and stumble on sand. I heard that they loved each other wholly without judgment or presumptuous misconceptions; that they have luxurious flowing hair that never tangles, and when they swim the undulating waves ripple like ribbons behind them. Ever since I was a little girl, I was fascinated with the possibilities underneath that liquid mirror. I saw myself and wondered if it was really a mermaid looking back at me, a girl just as curious to know what it's like to live where you don't belong. When I'm by the lake, it's just by habit that I let my fingers run gently over the water, wanting to feel the embrace of the other person touching me... but I don't know if I'll still smile when a hand, even if it is the most beautiful hand that belongs to the most handsome of merman, comes out to welcome me into their world. 

Muse 87: Paper Town

found via melanielockwood

It's so hard to find you. They told me it's all worth it in the end, that when I see you at the end of the day, it's like finding you at the end of the aisle. That's what all my friends, who have someone to hold hands with, tell me. They comfort me, sincerely comfort me, under the impression that things will work out in the end. 

I was walking in our town's history museum today, and I saw an old paper map that was drawn sometime during the 1870s. While I  was reading the description, I discovered that the small coffee stain, normally used to mark secrets and codes, was actually a point to mark a paper town. Paper towns were places fictionally created to make sure no one plagiarized maps. I guess I realized then that love stories were like maps. Point A to Point B all lead me to you, and everyone gives me advice on how to get there, but you're my paper town just like I am yours and no one will ever get the route right except us.

Muse 85: Shelter

found via jessgn

I loved his shoulder. Every time we sat next to each other, his shoulder was always in the corner of my eye like a boulder, a shadowy block that obstructed the sunset. I felt a crick grow in my neck and a strain that made my shoulders sore. And his shoulders looked so sturdy, so calm against the moving skies; I wanted to lean into it, rest my tired head while we sat still. I was a broken metronome failing to move to the beat, stuck on one end, but it was the good end. He moved into closer and I didn't have to struggle at all. Like a scoop to a spoon, a cheek in a palm, I closed my eyes and rested exactly where I wanted to be.