Imagine with me that you have already tried reaching for the stars. You achieved your dreams, you got your degree, you can finally show the world âI am here and have accomplished somethingâ. But the stars are not as welcoming as you thought, and they do not agree with you, and they only share their light, their knowledge, in a way that burns you. So you leave and say âno moreâ because you are now scarred from the fall.
You make your peace and have settled down and have found new ways to provide yourself light, and suddenly that doesnât matter. The stars want you back. Your dreams are calling again, they swear they need you, and for a moment you remember what itâs like to be there again. To feel like you matter even the smallest bit in the grand scheme of things. But after a while you have found that while the stars may need you, you do not need them. They say âyou are homeâ and you say âI already have one, you cannot have me foreverâ.
You yell and you cry and you call them âmurdererâ because that is what they are, that is what they are doing to you. It is no longer even about dying in the nothing of space, it is about the old scars that still wonât quite heal. Of the word âfailureâ they had carved into your skin the last time you had tried to be something more. You are a failure, they told you so already, so why would they ever trust you to be more? You canât do this. âYou canât do this!â They do anyways.
They take everything from you, again, with nothing but the burns. Even in the nothing, you never escape the nagging reminder of never being enough.
Then, a rock. It is alien and foreign and sings just like the Earth. It gives off heat and knowledge like the stars did, but takes everything measure to make sure it does not burn. It reaches out a hand and says âyou are friendâ and you are so lonely in the nothing that you can only reach out and agree.
You are still nothing but your friend is more. So maybe, something can be done.
The rock is grounding, like most stone is, and you are no longer floating aimlessly for answers. âLife is reasonâ it exclamation and you canât help but feel the double meanings of those words. You may still die to the nothing of space, but you will no longer die to the crashing, burning heatwave that is failure.
Except maybe you will. You have your answer, your near perfect solution, but itâs at the cost of your friend. If life is the reason then you cannot lose his. He is hot, like the stars, he burns, and maybe you will die saving him but at least he is saved. The old burns are now covered by new, fresh grief, but at least you have put them there yourself. No one has failed.
âYou can go home,â he told you earlier. âThe nothing will not have you. The stars can have you back.â
âYou are home,â you tell him now as you circle back to save him one last time. âThe stars do not need me anymore. My home does.â
And the rock is alien and familiar and sings to you like the Earth once did when you were a child and free of scars and burns and thoughts that you are a failure. âYou are a savior,â he sings, like the Earth would if she was here with you now, âand you are home.â
