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my ceiling stars
I pasted little green stars on my ceiling.
They glow at night, when the world is dark and quiet
I stare at them
Longingly.
My fingers reach outward, I caress the air, trace the lines up above.
I made constellations. That took a while.
My eyes are misty. My chest tightens.
This is the closest you’ll ever get.
Every night I go to bed staring at the stars.
Wishing I was with them.
That’s my dream.
My oh-so-secret wish.
It doesn’t scare me. That black abyss we call space. It seems to scare everyone else.
But no. Not me.
I crave it. Yearn for it. It’s the one thing I understand.
And don’t understand.
And I love that.
I take comfort in knowing there is no answer.
Because everything else in my life has answers.
I’m sick of answers.
A tear falls down the side of my face.
Slowly. Softly.
Alone.
The tiny dots begin to blur and shift, looking so real I stop crying for a second.
I just wonder at them for a while.
I don’t know how long. Hours. Minutes. Seconds.
Until suddenly slumber has taken me in her arms.
I think she pity’s me. She knows I want more.
Need more.
And she knows I won’t ever be satisfied.
Not until I reach
the little green stars I pasted on my ceiling.
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Recently I was staring up at my ceiling. It was bare. I felt bare. It was empty. I felt empty.
I shot up even though it was probably 1 or 2 am, and I had school the next day and ordered stars. Little green glow-in-the-dark stickers to put on my roof. Silly right?
I had been in a dark place. I didn't feel happy or healthy or like I had an answer for myself and my role. Everything seemed to make sense...except me. I started putting up the stars when I needed light in my life. Soon, my whole ceiling was filled. Constellations, planets, asteroids. Anything I could think of. Anything I needed.
Every night I would go to bed looking up. It reminded me that I didn't fit in. That I was never going to fit in. That what I want will never happen because I'm stuck on the ground. That I won't have answers. That I won't know what I'm doing. That...
But I've become ok with that. This dream of mine will never go away because space will always be a question. Going to another planet won't answer it, it will only ask more. And so from here, I will continue to ask, and question, and try to figure out what this tiny rock is doing in a galaxy with no end. Not fitting in, feeling alone, feeling unique has become the greatest gift of all.
Every night I look up and I know.......
I know. And I'm happy now. Or as happy as I can be from Earth.