Starlight hits the Earth’s surface millions of years after the star dies.

As it is born, billions of molecules unite into a burning perfection. As it explodes it’s rays of heat and light over the universe, it takes form, but only while it is young. As it settles, there is no going back.

We are all born the same way. All the creatures of the universe exist together as one, giving the universe magical wings. You exist as me, and I exist as you.

I was created with an explosion of rays of heat and light, of words and emotions, of memories, of stories to be told. An explosion of purity. My soul has been molded, like young wax forming a candle, around a tight wick of life.

But as the light from the star takes time to spread once it is born, so does my energy. My positivity. My optimism. My youth. As it grows as a green beanstalk and spreads it’s leaves, so does my light.

But, we all are no more than just fragments of dust in this world of Gods. Fractured pieces of a two-piece puzzle, trying to find our other half. We were born with two eyes. Two arms. Two legs. But only one heart, and we spend our eternity trying to find the other one. The one that will perfectly match ours. And once we do, everything falls together. With a silent click from the universe, solving us with it’s mighty hands, we fit like one. Like one we were supposed to be all this time. And so shall I spend my eternity trying to find my other half. Or have I already found it, but not realized it yet? Only the time will tell.

Dreams. Wishes. Hopes. Just waves that form in our brain. Like words. Like thoughts. Like everything else that flows in life. But then, they come to a stop. They reach a brick wall, crying to get to the other side. Once they do, we find ourselves. We find our true nature. We become a being whose weight must be endured by Mother Earth. Dreams. Wishes. Hopes. Weighting us down, but making us fly.

I have had dreams. I hoped. I wished upon the starlight. Unfortunately, as hard as they weight, as easy they sink, never to be seen again. But as a glass bottle on the bottom of the ocean, they wait until they shall be unveiled once again. And dreamed. And wished. And loved.

All the beings exist as one, and they fade as one, into the dark abyss of death. And nobody knows what awaits for us on the other side. But I am not afraid. If I was, I wouldn’t wake up every day. I wouldn’t leave footsteps in the snow of life. But I want my light to stay behind me for ages to dawn.

Starlight hits the Earth’s surface millions of years after the star dies, as a reminder that it existed once.

Do you ever get a sense of nostalgia for things that never were, or things that couldn’t be? It’s something I find overpowering. I feel it almost every day, to a certain degree. It’s small, yet specific things – The smell of fresh lavender on a rainy morning. An empty school on a cold autumn night; lights still on. That strange feeling in the morning when you are the only one awake.

These feelings begin to branch off into more and more complex emotions and sensations; memories of times that have not been and shall never be, lives that have never existed, and emotions that I cannot describe.

Eventually they combine into something greater – entire worlds, constructed of nothing more than vague sensations and nostalgia for the impossible. They are… “refined,” over time.

It’s always been like remembering. I enter my worlds like a home left behind long ago and greet those that inhabit them like old friends.



The strangeness of it all taught me something extremely valuable. Every other human being has something like that. Every other person on the planet is just as complex. They are all exceedingly important.

That understanding has helped me immeasurably.

I have never liked myself. I always found fault with myself more than anything else. Anything I create was just as flawed and imperfect as I was. I was not going to be able to do anything useful. Not now, at least. There was always that “not now.” A faint glimmer of hope, where, truthfully, I never had much of any else.

There wasn’t any single, driving force that made me feel this way about myself. Every little piece of myself I seemed to analyze until I found a multitude of reasons to vilify it. The effect was… contagious. I never strove to be perfect. It certainly wasn’t that. I just felt beneath everyone else.

I was weak. I was sensitive. Defending myself made me feel horrible. I tried to be as gentle as I could with all things. Even accidentally hurting a weed seemed to make me feel guilty and terrible.



I never changed. I’m just as sensitive now.



I just realized something very important about all of it – I noticed the Constant.



I wasn’t what mattered.



I just wanted to help everything and everyone else. If I tried as hard as I could to help everything else, I wasn’t useless.



So, yes. I’m the sensitive, stupid little thing that gets unnaturally upset by any kind of suffering. I’m the kind of person that cries over a dying plant. I retreat to the little worlds in my head to escape the toxicity and hatred of life. I genuinely only want to help in the end. The only thing I truly and irreconcilably despise is hatred itself.



For one of the first times in my life, with the sheer amount of hatred in the world, I’ve begun to wish everyone else was just a bit more like that.



All life is precious.