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Sometimes the world felt too big— too empty. Like the gaps between people were large enough to be chasms that one could never really cross.
Donna had no business being awake and about so late at night. The lights in the city had turned off one by one till the 2 A.M. silence was punctuated only by the shine of the moon and stars in the night sky.
The winds were stronger at the edge of the city, as she drew closer to the patch of woods surrounding the urban landscape. A storm was making its way over soon from the coast; not that it mattered to her— what could the storm take from her that the world hadn't already pryed from her fingers?
So many memories of lives she hadn't lived, so many faded faces, laughter and tears that she couldn't quite place. Why was her mind burdened by this knowledge? Why was she alone in carrying this heavy weight? What purpose could it possibly serve?
Who am I?
How many times had she asked that question in the mirror? Only to stew in the answering silence.
She felt so deeply in her heart— the echoes of something ancient and vast and broken.
She was the girl made from starlight and lies. The sister. The second draft. The afterthought that carried too much heart.
Did anyone else feel it? That ache that came from feeling like you were made from the fragments of someone else's myth? To mourn lives never lived? To feel grief that couldn't be named? To be told you aren't quite real— and to rise anyway?
The broken tree in the middle of a clearing felt like an invite— to rest, to sit for a while in the silence and to grieve for all the things unnamed.
The moon shone brightly above her head, casting a light so ethereal over the foliage that even in her state of mind, she couldn't help but feel her breath being taken away by the sheer beauty of it. And when she looked up at the star studded sky, the moon ducked behind the clouds for a second, only to emerge just as bright and beautiful from the other side— like it was winking at her. Like it knew secrets that she would never find out.
The air felt heavy with words she couldn't form. So her thoughts drifted to all that was familiar.
The Titans were hers. Her friends, her brethren, her family. But she could never burden them with her thoughts. Of course they would be willing to listen, they would lend their shoulders and stand by her— but they wouldn't understand. Couldn't.
And didn't they have enough of their own grief to deal with? It would be unfair for her to add to it.
Diana tried. She really did. But her sister always belonged in a way she never had. She beloned to Themyscira just as much as she did to Man's World— with such certainty that it was difficult to imagine a world without her in it.
So how could her sister ever understand the misfiting puzzle peice that she was?
Donna sat on that broken tree, feeling the rough bark against her skin, grounding her in a world that often felt too far away. The wind picked up again, a warning of the storm that was still far off—yet already she could feel it coming, heavy and inevitable. The city behind her slept, unaware. As if the world outside could sleep through everything—every longing, every question, every moment of pain.
The silence felt thick, almost suffocating, pressing in from every side. But still, the moon watched over her, almost like a confidant, like a reminder of something she couldn’t quite grasp.
Her thoughts circled back to that question again. Who am I?
The words hung in the air, not a plea but a resigned truth, like a bird caught in the branches of a tree. She was a ripple in a sea too vast for her to navigate—too small to matter in any real way, and yet the weight of her existence pressed against her chest as though it could crush her.
She wondered if the others ever felt this way—if Dick, if Wally, if Gar ever walked these streets at night, alone in their own heads, thinking about their place in the world. She couldn’t ask them. They would smile, and they would say something kind, they would put their arms around her and reassure her, but the truth would always be the same: they wouldn’t understand.
They had their paths. Their stories. They were pieces of a greater puzzle that somehow made sense when they were together. But Donna was a missing piece, always trying to fit into places that weren’t meant for her, not truly.
The moon slid behind a cloud again, and she sighed.
Even it was a mystery to her, the way it moved, slipping in and out of sight like it held the answers, but never quite giving them.
She rose to her feet, brushing the dirt from her jeans, and began to walk slowly toward the edge of the woods. The wind had picked up, tugging at her hair, pushing against her with a force that felt almost like it was trying to keep her grounded—to remind her she belonged here, even if she didn’t feel like it.
But the truth was, she didn’t belong in the woods.
She didn’t belong in the city.
She didn’t belong anywhere.
Even the earth beneath her feet felt wrong. She was made from starlight and lies, and yet her bones were weighed down by something else—something real, something she couldn’t escape. The feeling that every step she took was one more away from the world she was meant for.
The sky, once dark, had begun to bleed into shades of blue and gray. The horizon was thick with the promise of dawn, a quiet light breaking the silence of the night. The city still slept, but it was no longer the vast, silent expanse it had been. Now, everything felt pressed in on her—every breath, every step, every thought.
It was too small.
The world was too small, and she was too big for it. She had fought for this space, fought for her place, and still, there was no room. The walls closed in, the earth pulled tight around her, and the weight of it all felt like a pressure against her chest that could crush her if she let it.
Every day, she would have to fight for the place she hadn't yet found, the one that fit. Every day, she would have to push back against the world that wouldn't make space for her.
Sometimes the world felt too small. So—Donna would just have to keep carving her place in it. No matter the cost.