Tell me, do you ever lie in bed in the most vulnerable hours of the night, staring up at the ceiling that rises above your head? Does the ceiling ever flicker and disappear, giving way to an expanse of swirling galaxies and glinting constellations etched upon a pitch backdrop that seems to have no end? Perhaps memories of better times, glimpses of the sweet, sweet past float around you, stars in the never-ending sky. Perhaps trails of laughter, ghosts of birdsong are scattered across these distant stars.
And, you tell yourself, maybe, just maybe, if you grab hold of these dancing lights, you’ll be happy again. Maybe, just maybe, if you grab hold of these glinting jewels, you’ll never have to let go again.
So—heart singing, blood dancing—you reach up to grab those pinpricks of hope…
And that’s when you realize they’re light years away.
But, deep down, you’ve always known that. Even though it breaks your heart to think it, breathe it, say it, you’ve always known that those stars were meant to stay put, remain untouched by your searching fingers.
And, all at once, the stars blink out, the galaxies fade from sight, leaving you alone with the monsters in your head, the tear tracks on your cheeks. It feels awful, I know. It feels as if you’ll forever be trapped in the darkness of your room, your mind. Perhaps you stare up at the ceiling of your room, thinking about all the millions of futures that could have been, had you chosen a different path at a certain point in time, said something differently to a certain special someone.
But then you hear it. Out of the darkness and chaos of your mind, you hear it: The sweet, far-off melody of birdsong. Perhaps the stars have gone out, perhaps you can’t lose yourself in your bittersweet memories.
But that’s okay.
Because you know the birds will sing again, and when they sing, they will bring the promise of a new dawn and the possibility of a million futures, a million chances to make new memories that make your heart swell and your limbs dance to the beat of an unknown rhythm.
So, tell me, do you ever close your eyes and wait for the birds to sing? Perhaps you do, and perhaps you don’t. And that’s okay. But know that the sun is just on the horizon.