I want to be happy. I want to be kind. I want to love life and be loved and adored. I want to show them all what I can do and watch them look on in awe. I'm still alive, but I haven't been living. It's like I'm frozen in place while the world keeps turning. I feel like I'm drowning and nobody can hear me. When I scream, all that comes out is bubbles. I feel like I'm caught in a constant whirlwind of flashing lights reflecting everywhere as I'm falling down a hole with no end. As I fall, the walls press in further. But as this is happening, I must put on a smile to hide the chaos of the stormy sea churning inside of me. Nobody else can see my chaos or know how much I feel like I'm stuck upside down on a roller coaster. I want to fly as free as a phoenix and get far away from here whilst burning away my regrets, failures, fears, and pain. I want to light the sky on fire and watch it burn around me.
We are all skin and bones and body, but we all have so many different worlds inside of us, and no matter how much detail we use to describe them, no one will ever see them the way that you do.
Our stories are our own no matter how much we want other people to identify with them. We blossom like trees, but as soon as a wind blows the slightest breath, we fall apart. We fall from grace and our silent screams are forgotten. We’re spinning around space at an enticingly fast speed and I believe that at times you can feel the full force of motion.
There are moments in time when we are able to capture the speed of the world so that you are moving so fast, the rest of the world is barely moving. The butterflies in your stomach are just the speed of the world in the core of your being. These moments are often described as desirable and memorable. A first kiss, or the moments leading up to it; the first drop of a roller coaster; walking onto a stage with a full audience; or looking into someone’s eyes and seeing them for who they are; the rooted feeling of the speed racing through you is so often craved.
We think so highly of ourselves and praise our own utmost being, even though we are specks smaller than atoms in comparison to the universe. The stars shine bigger and brighter than we ever could so of course, our aspirations is to become like a star, if not a star itself.
We crave love because it’s all that we know to crave. For some, it comes as easily as breathing, but for others it’s as difficult as trying to catch the wind. The stars are a beauty that we could honestly consider to be perfect. They are never smudged, nor edited. They are pure, and real, and radiant. They are all that we wish to be.
With stars, there is no need to impress. They just are. They don’t try to be something that they are not. They don’t deal with drama. You could assume that if a star were to feel, it would be in a perfect state of mind; yet I often wonder how they feel. Are they lonely? Do they desperately cling to the idea of someday being close to the other star we see burning so brightly, but is always too far away?
The people that we love are like stars. They burn brightly. Sometimes, they are miles away no matter how far we reach. You can look at the stars around you, but you will always be too far away from them to be their star. Sometimes, we watch as the stars we love fade out. It’s painful, but in hindsight, they faded in the blink of an eye and in a flash of light.