"Even when a star dies, it gives birth to another one. It's mere existence is life and growth. One day I wish to be as infinite as the stars. To exist forever, if at least in their hearts."
When you left, you were not looking for a savior.
When he...
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What are the wonders of youth? In these critical moments of our life, how is it so easy to love? So easy to remember...so easy to forget?
So lost in your work, you don't notice as a group of young children wanders over to where you are sketching. They are playing with a ball, laughing and teasing each other, as young children often do. They don't seem to be older than 5 or 6 years old, and they are bright, young children. A picture-perfect representation of what youth should be.
One of the children, a young girl misses the ball as it is thrown to her, and it rolls away, straight into your leg.
The tap of it breaks your concentration, as though there was an intruder in your world, your small space. Your pencil breaks from the page, you are no longer lost within your mind.
Looking up, you notice a random group of children a few feet away. They are staring at you in expectation, and your eyes widen a bit in confusion. When they say nothing, you shrug it off, looking down at the ball which broke your concentration.
Putting two and two together, you smile a bit at your stupidity.
Setting your drawing materials safely to the side, you lean down to pick up the ball. As you do, resting it in your lap, the little girl excitedly runs over to you. You are silently thankful that she came to you due to the current situation with your leg.
"Thank you so much!" she says gratefully as you place it in her little expectant hands, and you smile at her a bit sadly.
Try as you might, you can't help but be reminded of yourself.
Were you the same? Were you filled with as much happiness and hope as she is? You know the answer, and it makes the corners of your heart darken with cold sorrow.
"Try not to lose it." You say as lightly as you can, tapping the ball with one finger. "The next person who it rolls up to might not be as nice. They might want to keep such an uncontrollable ball."
She giggles in disbelief at your analogy, almost rolling her eyes as she begins to back away to her friends.
"Why would anyone want our ball?" she asks, her eyes meeting yours in childhood innocence and expectation. "It's nothing special."
"I don't know..." you say, reaching for your art materials once again. "I think you should give your ball some more credit. To me, it seems as though it is very special."
She wrinkles her nose at you, the expression causing you to chuckle warmly.
"You're weird....." if she was going to say any more, you would never know for her gaze travels over to your sketchbook and she peers at your drawing, her eyes widening at the almost finished creation.
The only thing you had left to do was define some edges and you would have been finished. You were kind of longing to get back to it soon, but as you notice where she is looking, you realize there's a fat chance of that happening. You quickly close it back up, and she turns to look up at you, as you try to play it off. Acting like you are packing up, you try to ignore her expectant gaze.
