A Teaspoon Of Stardust

There Is No Greater Love Than This

UNEDITED ALSO, LISTEN TO THE VIDEO

“     Being against evil doesn't make you good.

                                - Ernest Hemingway

If there was one thing in the world I hated more than my father, it was Evangeline Blackwood.  

Nothing made me more furious than the fact that my father had abandoned me and left us behind, but knowing that Luke's psychotic ancestor was the cause made me want to kill her. I realize now that I shouldn't blame him. I shouldn't have cried every night because of the mess he'd left behind him for me, and me alone, to pick up the pieces to. It wasn't entirely his fault. But suddenly dropping years of resentment and hatred targeted at one specific man was a difficult task.

It was an odd feeling that I had around Luke. He made me feel something, a few things actually, that I'd never felt before.

He made me feel safe.

His simple presence filled me with a sense of comfort that should seem wrong coming from a boy I'd only met months ago, but it felt entirely natural.

He made me feel wanted.

That was one thing my mother never told me- that she wanted me. I'd always assumed I was an awful person, that I had done something to make her dislike me. What hurt the most about my mother, I think, is her lack of emotion altogether. She'd come home most nights and not give me a second glance. She obviously didn't love me, but now I'm not sure if she even hated me. She didn't feel anything at all for me, and quite honestly, her hatred is something I wouldn't preferred over nothing at all. At least then, I knew she had some feeling for me.

But most of all, Luke made me feel something crazy and unrecognizable.

It always began with a tickle in the back of my mind, when he laughed or smiled or grinned at me flirtatiously. I felt happy and almost as if I were flying, my feet swept right out from under me and lifted to the point of no return. An alated sort of free fall. It never bothered me, this unnamed feeling, but it was definitely strange. Nobody had ever made me feel like that, and I'd begun to wonder whether that was because it wasn't a common emotion or if I could only ever feel it towards Luke. Maybe it was simply because there was no one I'd ever met before him that was worth feeling like that for.

The thoughts race through my head as I find myself running numbly behind a surprisingly nimble Marie and Luke is latched to my arm. I can see my legs moving quickly beneath me, but because of my lack of sleep and the awfully large amount of stress and anxiety placed in a load upon my shoulders, I couldn't feel them. I see Luke turn to me and begin talking, but I can't hear him. I don't feel like I'm having a panic attack, why is this all so strange then?

Scarlett? He mouthed.

I shook my head in response, my eyes remaining wide as a pained expression spread onto his very attractive face. I couldn't imagine why he would be hurt, I was the one feeling terrible and plain ill. Unless, was he upset because I felt bad? That couldn't possibly be the case.

The setting around me was very confusing. Maybe because we were moving so quickly, or maybe because of my current condition, everything whirred by us in colorful strokes like a painting. There were no definite figures or lines just drags of blues and greys and popping oranges that calmed me somehow. How lovely would it be if that were how we viewed everything? If everything were beautiful, and nothing was considered ugly because we were all just individual splashes of paint on the canvas of life? If we all contained our judgement, or rather lost all judgement to begin with, because there was no point in telling a stroke of blue that he was horrible because he was not red. If we all loved each other (yes, love. A word very foreign on my lips. A word that is still imaginary, still make believe. A word that I still wish were true.), because in the end, no matter what color you were, we all molded together and our vastly unique shapes and shades blended to create this beautiful painting, a gorgeous piece of artwork created by God.