chasing stardust


Sometimes I let that engine run, pedal to the floor, no intention of ever looking into that rear-view mirror. The mornings smelt like half-smoked cigarettes and stale coffee: leftover attempts of appeasing anxious minds for the broken-hearted dreamers that polluted this place. I think that's why the American dream is so lucrative - no matter who you are; no matter what dirt's still underneath your fingernails; no matter how many skeletons you've got in your closet, you can still have it all as long as you work hard enough, until your heart hurts and your knuckles bleed. I lived and breathed that mentality. I was a lonely girl with big dreams in her head, wondering why everyone looked at me with such pity.

I want to chase stardust. I want to ram my spirit into the atmosphere. I want the universe to want me back. I want to feel like, some way, somehow, I'm a part of this world. The wind is humid on these summer nights and all we do is drive. I let it caress my hand, staring down that asphalt runway, wondering if I'll ever have a chance to give something back. The stars and stripes remind me that freedom is never free.

And to this day, I still believe. I believe it with everything I have. You can come to this country without two coins to rub together, but if you've got the will, you've got it all. Take chances; roll the dice; forget what you've heard and learn to love the hustle. There are a lot of sad people in this world, but I refuse to be one of them. These streets are paved with gold, that's what my father said. In the end, the love you make is equal to the love you take.

I stand, a single body against a vast ocean. I think this is where I'm supposed to be scared, but instead, I dive. Head-first - no intention of looking back.




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