Jen L. Steward
I wish to be a galaxy. Its infinite expanse of unknown possibilities, potential. Stars cascading across the sky in a waltz, the one that puts you in a trance and gives its undying attention to you. Barring its soul, its emotions, and thoughts. Galaxies are beautiful; they illuminate the dark sky and give it variety. I wish to be a galaxy, one that can confidently be itself and not worry about being too dim, or too bright. Its stars once again providing light in times of terror and strife. I want to be that galaxy, the one that doesn’t think they aren’t good enough or talented enough. Its stars dying out, color fading. I know things and people will come and go, but I need to focus on the stars that stay, and shine bright, so bright they hurt your eyes, and lead me further into the darkness. I want to be the galaxy that is already inside of me, screaming to be free.