"We are celestial beings, wrapped across the speckled night. Interlocked by connections of our mind. Grasping to own what is so beautiful. The thing is we can't own that. We can not wrap it in our hands. We can not grasp it by understanding, because we can't understand it. Space can't be bought, can't be own. There is no owner. The stars don't just shine for you. The stars don't shine for me. The stars don't shine for anyone, but itself."
Jackson lifted his pen and leaned back in his chair. The creaking of the wooden chair, brought an echo in his loud room. Kilo kish played through the air waves, reaching his ears, forcing his head to bob up and down.
His beautiful brown skin shining through his plain white tee. His fifth cup of coffee now gone.
'Ittookmetwohoursjustforthat. Wow'
He rolled his eyes, rubbed his face and continued to twist his nose piercing. He had to have his fictional essay for the writing contest in four days.
He spent all his time thinking about Leah, he forgot all about it, and He promised his dad, he would write for it.
Staring at his mom's garden the mahogany eyed boy grabbed his coat and headed outside to go grab a couple of flowers his mom just planted.
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When he made it outside, he could the hear the water falling from the fountain that his mom has had for 12 years. It was the same fountain that he picked out when his mom asked him.
He could still remember how happy he felt that his mom liked what he picked out, that sort of reassurance that what you think is beautiful other people can appreciate it.
Sadly, that habit of wanting appreciation and validation of his art has kept him from many opportunities
As he moved a long the walkway he scouted for any new plants that he would like in his room. He spotted some dandelions and some forget me nots but those were already overrated.
As he kept going he saw some cactuses lying beside the clay sculpture he made in 5th grade for his mom. It was littlest out of the bunch but it was also the brightest. Taking a near buy stick, he buried right next giving a sign to his mom that this was the one he wanted.
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Going back to his house, and finally back in his room he sat back down and continued to write now with more found inspiration then before.
