r e m e m b e r i n g;; ;;f o r g e t t i n g

s t a r s

when she was younger, the stars in her brothers bedroom always fascinated her mind. for a moment they became real stars, and the torn lamp shade that should have been replaced some time ago drowned. if she tried hard enough, she could drown too. drown into the fake-real stars. stars were replaced. they exploded; much more elegantly than she would. if she closed her eyes and her door, she could pretend she was exploding along side them. would someone else replace her?
but there was not much to replace. still, she drifted.
she hoped the stars on the ceiling would not be replaced. it would make them less like the real ones, but who could stay resilient against the shitty laws of this door?
but these stars are not real.
and she is left in someone else's door.