I'm a Libra, if you were curious about my horoscope [because I'm not]. I hate and love it when they try to tell me who I am. How could the stars know? I don't even know. I've never known. That constellation, dimmed this time of year by the sun, isn't close enough together in all actuality to mean anything to me. Lightyears: how far light travels in a year. Do you know how far light travels in a second? Even that's too much.
The sky often baffles me. But that's okay, because people baffle me too. How is it that I have friends even more amazing than the sky? Why am I so fortunate? If I had the means to feed the starving, would I do it? I don't know. There's always that just in case. Always a what if. Even with all these compliments comparing me to whatever flower, a plant is insignificant in the scheme of things. But my friends have entire galaxies hidden away under their fingernails.
Beam me up. Embrace the sun and pretend like it doesn't hurt you. I'm 20 now. Are there even any stars close enough to witness my birth? 20 lightyears, how bout it? Google's gonna help me out with this one: Gliese 581. Gliese saw everything. And guess what? It's in constellation Libra; that's my sign. Gliese, I'm looking up at you. Sorry I didn't realize you were there 'til now. You've been there from the beginning, huh? You're seeing it all. You're watching me tell my first lie and seeing me fall down for the first time. I got back up, right? I must've, to be stumbling around these days. There's more in store for you, Gliese. I hope you aren't disappointed with what you see. Gliese, you're not my replacement for God. But still. Thank you for being here.
I guess it's refreshing to know that the universe is so vast but I'm connecting the dots anyways. Not all come back to me, but that's not the point. The point is that the important people are stardust, and everyone has got someone who thinks they're the whole damned universe.
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