We Were Written in the Stars

On a dark day, death waits, weaving its way in and out of the crowds scampering throughout their lives. It hums a tune of mourning, and even as it slits the throats of sinners its voice rises above all who scream. It is a monster, and it is beautiful.
…
Sometimes I can’t stand it, the ticking of the grandfather clock, the slam of file organizers and the hum of the coffee machine that nobody thinks to replace even though it produces beverages that are more likely to be categorized as a type of bizarre animal feces than a drinkable source of nutrients, are after all enough to make anyone go insane.
And boy, did I go insane, my temper is like a demon, possessing me when even I don’t expect it, bursting out from even the toughest prisons to make my life miserable. But let’s face it, I was never going to be one to work in an office.
Even surrounded by those closest to me, the walls start to contract, closing in on me and preventing me from protecting my home, New York city.
Most people

come to New York to pursue dreams, and like any other place, a reasonable amount of people’s dreams are crushed. But I fell in love with New York for a different reason.
The mask it wears glimmers yet the city underneath writhes in debauchery. It provides hope to the people looking for it and a sense of satisfaction to those who love to cause anguish.
New York is dirty and decaying, falling apart under the reign of everyone touched by its claws. But it is alive. And yes, its breath is raspy and tortured but even though it is bleeding out, I can not seem to remove it from my heart. New York has planted its seed inside of me. Clinging on and refusing to let go.
I can’t help answering its call of torment, I simply run toward it. Peace and chaos were never expected to exist simultaneously yet in this filthy city, war and harmony walk together, creating an illusion of affability and helping others to find normality in turmoil.
However, for as much as my heart refuses to reject the city