People are like stars. They’re numerous. There are famous ones like the North Star and then there are the rest that fill in the vast spaces in between. Some are known by many people and stand out from the rest, but others go unnoticed or are only recognized by the singular astronomer who discovered them. They even have limited life spans and die over time.
I feel like a star. But not bright and beautiful adorning the night sky. I feel like a dying star. One that had potential and began its life so bright, but lost its power over time. I feel like a star about to implode on itself, creating a black hole. And my destruction will suck in and destroy everything around me too.
I feel immovable like a star, just floating up there in space, among millions of others. I want to do something, but I’m just a star. For humans, it means the world to be a star, but for a star, you’re just like every other star. Some are bigger, some smaller. Some are hotter and some are colder. It’s hard to tell the difference from one star to the next down on Earth though. They all begin to look the same.
If only I were anything else…or could become what else I want to be.
But I don’t know what that something else is.
So I’m stuck, in space, surrounded but alone, with no other prospects but my eventual death.
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