597 Words
To start a fire, you must strike a match. Set it down on something flammable, and blow on it ever so softly to spark some life in it. What do you do after you set a fire? Do you panic, running around screaming, calling for help? Do you stand there and watch it silently as screams and cries spread throughout the night air…do you smile? How does your life start? My life started with the falling stars. Not the day I was born, no, but the night my brother held me in his arms and showed me the stars. The night I said his name for the first time, watching the glow of happiness in his eyes as he touched the necklace I picked out for him, and as he wrapped his arms around me and we stared at the stars, he named me after the beautiful sparkling tears that rained from the atmosphere. I wondered sometimes, growing up, when the wishes came true. Does someone’s wish only come true when the star hits the ground, or was it nothing but a superstition after all? Sometimes, I stared at the falling stars and smiled, wishing for my own soft and sweet wishes, but sometimes I stared up at the falling stars with tears in my eyes, because I wondered if the universe was crying. The humans like to say when it rains their God cries, and I think that’s beautifully sad. In a way, if that’s true, what do the falling stars represent? Are they our hopes and dreams, crashing to the Earth, splitting open and giving everyone their wishes? Or are they simply the tears of the Gods and Goddesses, watching from their realms, crying for us and what we go through? Sometimes when I watched the stars raining down in the sky twinkling like beautiful glowing fireflies, I wondered if they were hopes and dreams coming true, rewarding everyone for how good they are. But sometimes I thought they were tears of what had happened, what was to come, and as I watched the falling stars raining down through the dark night, I would shiver and hold my cloak tighter around my dress, wondering if this was the end, and when I wake up the world will be on fire, burning, burning all around us, washing us all away so it can start anew. I was raised honor-bound, in a world where chivalry and honor were more important than our hearts, than our wishes, than our wants and needs. I was content with my life, with my title, with my destiny, so why did you have to come out of nowhere and crash into my life like a falling star, washing my world in beautiful flaming sparkles and burning through my resistance? I can’t help but wonder, are you part of the destruction, the fire…or are you a missed hope that I wished for one night when I wished for more than the life I’ve always expected from me? What happens when you start a fire? Do you put it out, extinguish it, kill the flames and choke yourself in the smoke and ashes, forcing yourself to stay the course, to keep steady, to hold your head high, and do as you’re expected? Or do you let it burn, do you let the fire lick against your skin, engulfing you and taking over everything you've ever known, and let it roar? You make me feel like I’m on fire, and I’m not sure if I should drown in it, or let it set me free.
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