The Loneliness of Starlight
The Loneliness of Starlight
At times, I wonder how something so praised can feel so alone. My home is an empty expanse of darkness with bare walls that stand undecorated. I used to try painting my home with the small tokens that you sent me, but I soon learned that your gifts and praises don’t last. They are perishable, and this distance between us is too great. By the time they reach me, having struggled to pass through all manner of obstacles that clutter the universe’s expanse, I barely have enough time to carry them into my home before they crumble. For a fleeting moment, I was able to feel your glowing admiration, but now it sits broken in the scattered piles of dust that dirty my home. I don’t try to send a response to your crumbling gifts because I know that it won’t reach you. I simply sit in the emptiness of my home and continue to shine.
Despite the debris that drifts in the darkness around me and clutters the distance between us, I can still feel the way you gaze at me. I sometimes wonder if my only purpose is to shine light on all of you down below, my body flickering with brilliant light as you turn your cameras toward me. There are beautiful things created because of me — stories, poems, and art pieces all inspired by my tiny spot in this crystal sky — and I marvel at all these gifts of adoration, but I wonder how many of my admirers really know me. You are enamored by the performance I put on every night. My glittering mask entertains you, and yet your image of me is only skin deep. Nonetheless it seems unfair to blame you. With all this distance between us, how could you ever hope to know me at all?
All those floating clouds of comets and the blinding light I shine on you obscure your view. You cannot tell, or maybe you do not notice, that my glowing body is breaking up into tiny shards. If you were not so distracted by the beautiful images that I present on the sky’s stage, would you be able to see what is happening to me? I wish that you could see it. I wish that you would look up at me and notice that I am slowly falling apart. If you looked deeper into my corner of the sky, you could see the way that my skin is slowly splintering into stardust and you could run your hands along all of my broken edges. I would stay still and let you scoop up the pieces of me that start to drift away, but I know my dream is useless. I can only hope that I manage to hold the pieces of my body together long enough so that my light does not fade away before I’ve had the chance to say goodbye.
“I’m scared.” My voice wavers as I sit in this dark expanse full of pinprick lights. My words are little more than a whisper, but I hope that they will reach you anyway. I know that I will be long gone by the time you hear my shaking plea and try desperately to answer me, but I still have to ask, “What happens when a star dies?”
My words revolve around in the silence that I’ve broken, building and piling over themselves until I can hear them vibrating around me. I watch as my words drift away from me and toward your lovely Earth where I know that you stand, unaware of the turmoil that burns beneath my glowing exterior. You have such a wonderful image of me, and I fear that I will ruin it as I sit here aching for an answer. It seems like something as adored as me should have all their own answers, but I don’t. Despite the way that you gaze up at me and allow me to bask in all of your praise, I am alone. I do not know what happens when a star dies because I have never seen it. In life, all of my family drifted so far away that I soon lost sight of their beautiful, radiant forms. I was so focused on being loved by you that I lost sight of everybody that was once near me. I can only assume that everyone I cared for died alone in the darkest corners of the universe, and I could not be with them.
I am afraid that you will forget all about me when my light no longer reaches you and panic fills me when I think about my inevitable end. I have heard stories about stars whose light trickles away until they are twisting masses of darkness. Is this what happens to a star whose fame begins to fade? When they are no longer as beautiful as all of you remember them being and when they have grown too old to pose for you, maybe their image contorts until they are devoid of light and life. Maybe you no longer adore them like you used to.
When my absence stretches across the universe and finally reaches you, I hope that you will see that empty space in your glowing crystal sky and think of me. I will be long gone by the time those last echoes of my light fade away, but please hear these dying words of a star you used to love. If I fail to push away the darkness and all these broken pieces of my body coalesce into a mass of destruction, do not look, do not ruin the image you have of me. Close your eyes and imagine that new missing space in the cosmos. Remember me as I used to be, so beautiful and full of life in your wonderful crystal sky. Do not be upset that I have died, because I got to live a life surrounded by your love and adoration. I got to be your beautiful thing. What else could I have asked for?
Isabella Calle is studying creative writing at Western Washington University. In between schoolwork, writing, and planning to attend an M.A. program for English education, she enjoys traveling the world and exploring the beautiful vistas of the Pacific Northwest.
