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I stopped chasing after the world today.

In the middle of a headache, as stress intertwined with the muscles on my back, a memory came unbidden to me, carried by the scent of flowering trees in the night. And suddenly— you probably know the feeling— I wasn’t old anymore. I wasn’t stretched or the mere byproduct of a lifetime of paying bills and ignoring dreams, pushing them for later, always later…

I was young again, and a little new.

Then some unknown feeling washed over me. An urge I had not felt in a long time suddenly gripped me by the heartstrings and pulled me outside, seemingly back in time.

I hadn’t seen stars in a long time.

It had slipped my mind that such things existed. And just like that, I had forgotten all about the world. In the face of this, of an ink-black sky staring back at you and millions of stars burning through the darkness like it’s nobody’s business, how can anything else feel important?

My big dreams, the ones that had accumulated after being swept under the rug over my years, they were are nothing next to those.

Stars, they are just dots in the sky, fireballs that have been dead for eons. But look at how they can make the world stop.

And maybe, maybe I want to be just a little like that. Maybe I want my light to burn long after it has gone out. Maybe I want to take all those dreams from under the rug ,blow on them like a dandelion and watch them spread out into the night and grow in between cracks in the cement, in places where dandelions shouldn’t be, in places where dreams don’t grow.

 

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