The stars turned to face me in all my imperfections and I suddenly learned how to breathe again. I looked up as the constellations stared down, and I remembered how mysterious and unexpected life can be. But perhaps that’s the beauty of it all.
For the past few weeks, especially because of starting a new job, I have felt nothing short of lost. Confused, unsure, unable to calculate my next move. I’ve found myself asking simple questions, from “Where do I go from here?” to the life-changing, doubtful question of “Why am I here?”
The emptiness has made me second-guess my own self, worrying and erasing the plans I had already figured out months before. My anxious pining has only sky-rocketed, and I’ve resorted to drinking an extra cup of chocolate milk every day to feel better, more awake, more in tune with my robotic tasks of this new way of living.
As spring approaches, I’m sure you understand my heartbreak in not knowing what the future holds.
The usual smile on my face has been a stranger lately, and I miss seeing her in the bathroom mirror.
But yesterday, after feeling the tsunami of my body shake in concern of what tomorrow or even next week would bring, I felt something. A reminder, a universal sign that everything was going to be okay, as surprising as that sounds. I just knew I needed to make the decision to take it all in amid the hustle and bustle of everyday life, like worrying what’s for dinner or how am I going to pay my bills.
My hands shaking, I closed my weary eyes and took a moment to just breathe. Inhale, exhale, and repeat. I then had the sudden urge to just take a moment and stop. I felt this strange yet vividly dire need to just go outside and look up at the indigo night sky, the diamonds above me dazzling so far away.
I’m not a big outdoor person, but feeling the cold gust of wind against my face woke me up even though I had been awake all day.
I lost track of how long I was out there. My neck twitched as the seconds transformed delicately into minutes, and my being was lost in a trance, just looking above me. The stars and their constellations comfort me.
But looking up that night at the stars made me feel something. It made me feel something I haven’t in a long time.
It made me feel alive again.
I felt the wind kiss my cheek as my mind unraveled my human worries into Mother Nature’s arms. My chest felt freer, like I was chatting with an old friend. The moon gave off an iridescent glow, transfixing my eyes into a world beyond my own.
It was a reminder that everything is going to be okay. That the universe has a plan, even if I have to change my own.
I remembered that yes, I’m imperfect and small and I worry about the little things, the things that don’t really matter sometimes, but I remembered that there is still a designated purpose for our very existence. Maybe I don’t know what it is yet, or maybe I’m still figuring it all out, or maybe I will just keep getting rejected again and again, but you know what?
That is the beauty of life.
The stars twinkle and glow, and they watch us. The stars want us to understand the stories behind them and the magic of placing our human trust in an everlasting existence of nature.
Looking up at the stars that night helped reinforce that crazy idea inside my heart that everything will be okay. As humans, we’ve survived the worst over the thousands of years that the stars have watched us, and hey, we will get through this, too.
And the stars?
They will keep watching over us.