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Liar.
You have always been a liar.
You lied to reassure those who were the closest to you.
You lied to me.
You told me that stars shone forever and never ran out of light.
A beautiful lie that I wished to believe,
While I extinguished the light of many with my own two hands.
When a star dies, it creates a nebula.
It leaves behind something beautiful,
And its story comes to an end.
Stars always looked the same to me.
But one star shone brighter than the rest.
One star occupied more place than the rest.
One star was treasured by so many.
One star became my star.
What makes a star special?
A star that shines brightly in your times of need.
A star that knows you better than you know yourself.
A star that saw you grow.
A star that wanted to see the end of the world.
That star, what was its world?
Perhaps that’s a question that I’ll never be able to get the answer to.
Love.
That star, my star, was beloved by all.
But the star never noticed,
It thought that if it stopped shining,
Nobody would realize its presence is gone.
I found comfort in the light of the star.
Every night, I would call out its name.
Every night, the star would shine a little brighter.
Every night, I loved the star a little more
One night, I called out the star's name, my star.
For the first time, the star didn’t answer my call.
For the first time, the star didn’t shine its light a little brighter for me.
For the first time, the night felt colder, an unbearable cold.
Since that day, the nights only got colder,
And the star never shone its light again
That star, my star, left behind a nebula in its stead.
A final gift of light.
I wonder where the star is now.
I wonder if it thinks about me sometimes.
I wonder if that star ever loved me.
If I could have one wish in this world,
It would be for that star to shine bright.
As bright as it always did, not more, nor less.
But the star, what does it want?
Hate.
That star hated other stars.
The other stars were arrogant and egotistical.
The other stars shone brightly for themselves.
Stars wouldn’t consider what others wanted
The stars did whatever they wanted.
Does that star, my star, want to shine brightly again?
Does that star want to shine as bright as it has always been?
Does that star hate me now?
Is my wish egotistical, like the stars?
Am I arrogant, like the stars?
Am I like the stars you hate so much?
Maybe it was your wish, not shining your light anymore.
Maybe it was your wish, leaving behind a nebula instead of shining on.
When a star dies, it explodes into millions of tiny fragments.
Those fragments form the nebula.
But some fragments get lost along the way.
Some fragments are all alone, deep into space.
If I collect all the fragments, can I get my star back?
Whether it takes ten, a hundred, a million years,
Any amount of time is worth it for you.
But no matter how much time I sacrifice,
No matter how many fragments I collect,
I will never get 100% of you back.
Maybe that one missing percent is the one that loved me.
Maybe that one missing percent is the one that hated me.
Maybe that one missing percent is the one that made that star mine.
Perhaps that missing piece is where your wish lived.
And perhaps your wish was to disappear.