Falling Star

Ever since I was a child I knew what it meant if you could catch a star.

Happiness, warmth and light.

Things that most people in humanity, including me, can only dream of.

But despite the odds I kept dreaming that one day I would catch a star.

One day I would be happy and I wouldn't be alone anymore, because I knew my light,

My Star,

would burn brighter than anyone's star had ever burned before.

One beautiful autumn night I watched my star drop out of the heavens,

its etherial beauty lighting up the night

as its warmth echoed off the darkness which surrounded it. 

I ran and caught my falling star and when I held it in my hands. 

Its warmth shivered down my spine right into my soul and suddenly I knew joy.

For a second I could almost glimpse heaven.

But the fire started to sputter and dim until finally it went out.

And I was left with only a lump of coal blacker than the deepest space.

People say that ignorance is bliss and they're right.

The pure lump of darkness I had been left with burnt a hole straight through my hand

A hole which continued to grow until it had engulfed my whole body

turning me into a mere shadow of my former self.

People ask if it's better to have loved and lost or to have never loved at all.

My answer is simply this: you can't have misery without happiness.



You are probably the best writer currently out there, in any genre or none. You effortlessly put one word after another and makes real magic with them — funny, moving, tender, brave and dangerous. You are unique, and should be declared a national treasure, and possibly surrounded at all times by a cordon of armed security.

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