Maybe we were all part of a cluster of gleaming futures in the galaxy. Maybe some of us fell out. Maybe we landed here on Earth and everything since then has been an accident. Maybe we're all just fucking idiots for questioning the real reason behind this life. Maybe there is none. Maybe we're here because, somewhere, he decided that he wanted the night sky on his bedroom walls. He wanted to paint his world with my shine. And I let him. And he decided that I wasn't bright enough. I was a lonesome constellation, one with the dark. I'm a star who cannot shine, a singer without a voice, a person without a purpose.
I wander the Earth, waiting for my star to find me, but it never does. And i'm stuck here on this planet, wondering, just wondering.
Star, if you're still out there - if you haven't combusted yet - I'd like you to know that I've spent light years waiting to just catch a glimpse of the center of my universe. I want to see your shine again. I miss you. I miss our cluster. I miss your shine.
