To be honest, I never stopped crying to the stars. I just stopped telling people about it. I guess I just realized how no one's really ever there to listen. Some people will say they would, and they will—but only up to a certain point. Then they expect you to heal. To just charge it to experience and move on. I don't blame them. The world's already so busy as it is, everyone's struggling around to make things work, and this life is full of broken dreams. But I still cry to the stars from time to time, simply because I know that the dreams I had to give up meant everything to me at some point in my life. That while I know I can move forward and leave it all behind because that's how life works, I also know for sure that my heart will always remember.
I cry to the stars so they know how hard I tried, and then I keep it to myself, silently hoping that someday, when I'm a lot wiser and more capable than I am today, I'd stumble upon an old dream left behind and find that I can finally afford to try harder.
And try I will.