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High up among the sky, beyond the clouds and the birds above- in the vast, boundless, galaxy- there once lived a little star, one who is full of energy and extremely eager to show it to everyone. She was a very special star indeed, or at least, that's what she heard from others. She was used to being praised, complimented, cherished, and adored- "Oh, what a star you are!", "You shine better than most of your peers!", "I can see from your glow that you're going to be a great star one day", "You shine so brightly, we don't even have to worry about you!", were all things the little star took pride in at one point. It means she's done well. She was loved. And for this tiny celestial body, that was all she ever wanted, all she thought she'd ever needed.
But the little star didn't know any better. How could she? When that's the kind of love she's known all her life? The more she grew, the more she realized, perhaps she wasn't so special after all. Along her journey, she encountered many more stars like her, stars who shine as brightly as her, some even more. The conversation steered away from the usual delightful accolade, it became sharper, harsher, meaner- hostility masked as criticism, "I heard that another star in your level gleamed brighter than you today", "Why can't you be better?", "Why can't you be more like them?", "I thought you were better". Sure, they weren't outrightly cruel, yet it was enough to waver her self-esteem, enough to make her position feel threatened.
Terrified that she might not be as loved anymore, she thereupon naturally tried harder. Joining tournaments, training daily, competing constantly with all the other shiny stars. She didn't win them all obviously, but she thought it was enough to make her nebula happy. It was not. She was utterly exhausted, her core weakened and her glow faded. She pushed through though, because any kind of torment is better than losing the attention she had- she'd rather burn than lose that glimmering spotlight.
Multiple years have passed in the little star's stellar lifetime- years since her first reality slap, and yet, her situation had no significant change whatsoever, still trying, still falling, still shining albeit a little dim. However, her little routine has shifted ever since "The Great Blast". "The Great Blast" is a cosmic event which affected all of the Milky Way. It has made a profound and irrevocable impact to all stars, asteroids, and planets alike. It requires all extraterrestrial beings to stay inside their home, for the outside world has been infected with a terrible plague. This era lasted for about two years- not long for celestial souls, but as one can imagine, a long period of time where heavenly bodies barely interact with each other, would inevitably make some of those beings different, whether it's in their form or their psyche. One of them, just so happens to be our little star
You see, the little star grew weary during her isolation in the “Blast
Solitude”. She became indolent as she's deprived of motivation to shine. Unsurprisingly,
many other stars felt the same way, but the rest continued to glow, and it filled her with
envy that she couldn't be them. Then, she built a habit of procrastination as her desire
to beam gradually dwindled each day. It was killing her inside, she wanted to shine, to
have the spark she used to have, but she simply had none left. Still, as much as she
hated to admit it, she felt relief as she looked around and saw that a lot of stars were at
the exact point she was at that moment.
Supernova. That's what they call the death of a star, or rather, its
explosion. It was quite ironic that a star shines the brightest upon its demise, that its
final act of performance was both baneful and picturesque. It is a natural phenomenon,
all stars would eventually experience it, but she noticed that it became more prevalent
for stars her age to trigger their own supernovas. Part of her is scared, not because
she’d have to go through it one day, but because on certain nights– when she was left
alone in the dark, with nothing accompanying her but her own thoughts echoing back–
the idea of being “supernova-ed” wasn't actually so bad, in fact, she might as well have
preferred it over her current mundane life.
It is a well known fact that the brightest stars tend to burn out the fastest.
Unfortunately, the little star didn't know that then. She also didn't understand that true
love– the kind she pursued since she was a protostar– is supposed to be unconditional.
She had no one but herself to blame. Still, after “The Blast”, the Milky Way just went
back to operating its original system. Each satellite orbited its planet, planets continued
to circle the Giant Star, and the stars themselves carried on shining as they used to. Not
the little star though. She was frozen in time. Everybody moved on, but the little star
was “stuck” in The Blast. Technically, it wasn't even proper to call her “little star”
anymore, she's not so little now, she's grown (even if she still feels like a little star
inside)
Her life Post-Blast was dull, but it was admittedly better than during. She
still felt that hollow feeling of despondence occasionally, the thoughts of supernovas and
whatnot. And it would've driven her insane if it were not for the other dimmed stars she
met within her path. It all happened in a sudden, arbitrary way. It started small, with
pointless conversation and casual inquiries about each other's life. For the first time in a
very long time, she felt seen, she doesn't have that burden to constantly shine, she can just be. She realized that she's not alone, there are stars out there who genuinely enjoy her presence, with or without her glow.
The little star has regained something she thought she'd never have back. Hope. She has found solace in dark moments where light is scarce. She's brave now- braver, at least. She speaks up on what she wants- refusing to do what she's told to just because she's expected to. Even if some things are left unspoken, it's more than she could ever imagine doing. Sticking with her tenet. Standing up to her nebula. Rejecting what she's been doctrined for ages.
She even has dreams now. Dreams. The same little star who used to do everything by the book, who was more like a machine than an orb with her always following orders, who competed, not because she had the ambition, but because she simply wanted to be loved. She found what she thinks might be her life call. Through that dream, she reclaimed the passion to shine as brightly as viable. Her spark is back- or perhaps it was never truly gone, it just sat there deep in her heart, lying dormant, waiting to be rekindled. She wants to help stars like her to shine comfortably. Help them understand their emotions and how to regulate them. Some of her galactic relatives doubt her choice of vocation, calling it such a waste when she could've pursued something more "real". Nevertheless, having finally chosen something for herself, she persisted.
She used to think she was special for having the ability to shine brightly, to shine brighter than most. She used to think she was born special, gifted with the talent to glow as much. She knows now though, that's not the case at all. She's able to shine as bright as she is right now, through grit and perseverance, through trying even when giving up seems easier. Despite that, she still struggles from day to day- she knows that comparison is the thief of joy, but it's so much easier in theory than practice. Even so, it's okav, because now, she realizes that the effort matters more than the result itself. That, is when a star truly shines, not when it's shining brighter than others, but when it's shining to its maximum potential, expressing themselves- their authentic self, freely. The "little" star is far from perfect, and neither is her life, but she's still trying, still striving, still surviving- and at the end, that's what really matters.