blue lips, blue veins, blue- the color of our planet from far, far away.

It is 1:15 and I just finished a major English assignment. Procrastination.
We had an essay prompt in English this week, a satire, about upper class English society in 1712. The people that scored the highest on the essay pointed out how absolutely mundane the writer made his character sound. How pathetic he was. How even his dreams were extremely bland.

We spend our lives chasing things. Chasing love. Chasing a "better" life. Chasing standards.

And for...?

We chase love and we end up driving hours only to stand outside the apartment of the person we're desperate for, pounding on the door in the freezing cold. In the ideal world- the one we're chasing so hard after- the person opens the door and we fall, dizzy and droopy-eyed into the their arms and their good graces. But in the real, cold world we stand outside that apartment. Our fist heavy and hurting from pounding on the door and our heart sore from pounding its own beat out even harder.

And why?

Because someone told us when we were little to grow up, get married, and have nice things. So we chase. and we chase. and we close our eyes to sleep at night hoping that our dreams will bring us a few miles closer to that finish line.

And if we don't wake?

What if our prayers are the last we ever say? What if we never pray at all that night? And if we don't believe in God, what if we don't answer that last text message?
A really sweet boy at my school died two nights ago in his sleep. Just like that. A few moments and he was taken from everyone that loved him.
So I have to ask myself when horrible, horrible things like this happen,
do I really want to spend every waking moment chasing a mundane life that I think someone once told me I wanted, but I can't remember because it was so long ago, and who can really have ideals when they're a child and
ANYWAY
what if my last moments are spent doing an MWDS at 1:00 in the morning?
sometimes I know that it's idealistic to think like this. I know that I can't base life on what ifs.
So I deal.
and I take what I'm dealt.
and I play my cards and hope no one laughs at the cliche and slight Lady Gaga reference I'm writing right now.
'cause that's all I've got.
Now if only I could bring myself to annotate.