How can someone feel so significant when looking into the abyss of the night sky? The stars seem to swirl in variety, cosmic beings much more important than anything else. They light up the sky, their twinkling shining so bright, patterning the dark like polka dots. The multitude of blues and whites and blacks seem so pointless, however beautiful, when the stars are the true stars in their spotlight. When they live known by millions, I live as an untold story, beneath their blaze of glory, yet the fear doesn’t take a hold.
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