I was sleepy three hours ago when I told myself I’d go to bed. I lay and stared into the darkness. I raised the blinds to see if I could catch any of the meteor shower. I couldn’t. Sleep brings on another, new day, but sometimes I’d rather torture myself. Punish myself, because I am not the person I should be. That is just the truth right now.
The platitudes are useless: I know everyone feels that way at some point, or even at many points, in their lives. I know it very well could be a phase. I know this pain is more than just being away from New York or feeling inadequate because of employment or school or social circles or family or bank accounts. It’ll pass; it will all work out. Of course it will.
Why do I do this to myself?
It’s raining stars in our solar system right now. Leo’s mane crackles. If I were to jump high into the sky and catch one of those stars on my tongue, it would burn. My whole soul would catch fire and be consumed instantly in the vacuum beyond our atmosphere. I am nowhere near ready for such glory – subtelestial – even that of meteors blazing in their own orbit.