the night before yesterday i turned my head up to the stars and begged them for meaning. i searched my way through the constellations (three in a row / dog’s nose / nothing else i know). i looked up astrology and sun signs on my phone as i laid on my back in the front lawn, and the rectangle of white light casted a foreign glow in the street-lamp darkness. damp grass and dirt and maybe a bug or two climbed between the valleys my fingers created, splayed on the ground like they were harnessing the power within the earth.
but the stars did not provide any answers and i don’t agree with my zodiac sign and as i looked into the sky i begged for something to make sense. i begged for answers on my chemistry test, for methods to remedy falling asleep in spanish, for news that doesn’t make me want to stomp myself into the ground. for fresh music to listen to, for eyes that don’t hate my reflection, for ears that don’t hate my voice, for a mind that doesn’t hate itself.
but the stars are not cold things. i look up at them and they blink back at me. they cannot tell me how to find the empirical formula but they tell me how it feels to hold yourself together with your own gravity. i tell them i’ve been doing it since i was born. they tell me they are always burning and i tell them that sometimes i feel like i’m on fire. they tell me they are five light years away from each other and i tell them my friend lives down the street but i still can’t find it within me to call them when i feel like i’m drowning.
the stars tell me that no one lives forever. not even them.
and i tell the stars that is not what i’m scared of.