You're the darkest burning star... you're my perfect disease

There isn't anything as beautiful, anything as monumental, nothing as pure or important as the moment that one becomes thankful they were born to accomplish some unspoken greatness. I found this morning, at 5:23 to be exact, that I felt just this. As I thought of Jon and Clarice and all of the rest of the people I consider my friends, I could not have been more thankful. Then after much self evaluation I realized that finally I have fallen in love with someone... someone who is the most the beautiful, the most entertaining, the most intelligent... myself. There is a fine line between vanity and reality, I think I have reached that line and my feet appear to be dead center with it. I am destined to love those around me. I am here to bring happiness to them, to hold them in their deepest moments of despair, to scoop them up and brush the filth from their wings. It was my dear friend Jon who made me see this truth. It was in his words, in the language of his body, that I was able to see exactly who I am. And because of this new seen reality, I know that I shant settle any longer. I refuse to settle for loving the idea of a man who does not exist. He is nothing more than the faintness that breath leaves behind on mornings like this. He is nothing to me. No birthday wishes, no matter how lovely they are spoken, can be true and free of hate or disgust or egotistical motivations. While my heart sank and my knees gave way to a weight I didn't realize I had, there was nothing there. It was as if he had been a used transparency, one that the teacher had scribbled on so many times it appeared gray. But suddenly, as if my presence was water, the transparency had been washed clean, and I could see right through it. It's pathetic motivations, it's pompous and self serving eyes. I still picture your face and the way you used to taste but only in dreams of you for the reality of who you appear to be is faded and bitter. Appearance is everything.