Weekly Creative Writing
I see the galaxy from my vantage point. I see the millions of other stars, shining brightly, never thinking about the future. I see the planets rejoice in the light of the things that each of them respectively call “the sun.” As if there weren’t any others. And the stars. Fools. All of them. They forget that the time must come to pass when they must involuntarily destroy their dependents in the swollen throes of their deaths. I know, I know all too well the bliss they enjoy and I hate them for it. I hate them for their happiness and their brightness and their carelessness. I, too, once had planets to surround me. They loved me and basked in my light. Even the other stars acknowledged my greatness. I was The Eldest, The Greatest, and all knew it, none more than I. Great, Terrible, Loved. But now I have become nothing. A patch of darkness in the sparkling fabric of the milky way. They have utterly forgotten me, but I never forget them. They do not think of me as I brood in the darkness. But I dwell on their happiness and feel nothing but coldness. The unfathomable, un-expressible weight of being nothing crashes down heavier every second, inverting the very idea of me. You cannot, can never, understand this pressure. But I can, as I sit and brood among the stars.
To read the much, much better half of this joint weekly project, follow this link. =)
