there had to be a certain signifigance to the setting. the sky inclosed her, and stole her thoughts. her eyes were fixated on the incandescent celestial bodies above. stars.
the thing about stars is this: the stars she was looking at were most likely burnt out. lost in the infinite darkness of space.
the was a sense of poetry to that. things that seem so concrete can be gone without acknowledgment; life is fleeting.
this thought eclipsed all the others, and she struggled to find the right words. her friend was spilling words into the night, stirring up images and possibilities that must have been flooding each girl’s mind.
she saw tea cups and old books, soccer balls and ink stains. she saw quiet words masking louder thoughts, and the way her eyes fluttered when she was confused.
she should have been delivering advice. wasn’t that what best friends were for? but she was biased.
both of them had reality to think about.
sometimes, they were dreamers. maybe other people didn’t see them as that, but on certain days, they could both be caught exchanging looks of understanding.
they drove around and sang dixie chicks in her car, and argued about the pixies. they honored the last traces of childhood in them by becoming calvin and hobbes for a night. pasta was made at ten at night, between television breaks. they were the kind of girls that lived for the summer, not a summer of beaches parties, but of mario kart, vampires and unexpected sobriety at 5 o’clock.
maybe thats when they dreamt the most, when they made slurred decisions on the spot that had consequences they couldn’t have imagined, or when they solidified their trust with pinky promises.
a part of their fantastical hope was lost that summer. things stopped becoming possibilities and started to become realities.
but as she spoke on the phone, she couldn’t help but stare at the stars. it felt like this was a kind of defining moment. not in her own life, but in her friend’s. maybe it didn’t seem like it, her choice was concrete, was it not? but she could see could see two futures stretched out in front of her.
there is a choice to be made, dreamer.
don’t forget, “imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia.” you think too long of the possibility of what could be, and what might happen, and your whole reality slips by without a sound.
these stars were alive once. now they are lost, but not gone.
the second thing about stars is this: we could not be here without them. their decision to explode into billions of beautiful particles of matter is why were are here today. they provided the oxygen, and the carbon and all the concrete elements of who we are. in their mystical destruction, they created billions of possibilities and endless potential.
our minds, our hearts, our hands, our eyes are made of stardust.
poetic isn’t it?
hear that dreamer? maybe your eyes really were kissed by god.