The Stars Have a Mitigating Power Of Comfort.

To start a word is so hard as a question of how to create a good day? The second person that is living under care is woken up again and becomes a piece of uncertain. I tried to overcome the nightmare that happened at 7:30 in the morning; I tried not to be the devil, but I was not docile, I tried not to think it anymore, but I wasn't in the position to question what was my faith?. To live or die? To become or stagnant person being instead?. I was drowning, the invisible water had already reached my nose, and I could not subsist. My heartbeats seem to collide. My skull is just a simple sponge to absorb everything.

Look at my face; that was the real me. Do I look okay? Three tablets will be enough without the use of pills I am taking every night. I think I won't look like that. I will be visibly miserable; my eyes will be so profound, for I had no sound sleep started long ago. I am used to that case, but still aiming that someday things will become standard in my sleep and self—the day of good.

Last night I was looking at the stars. It was at 9 in the evening when people were now sleeping. The neighborhood is okay, and some are dining, then just some moment, no sound of chatting, and even the lights were off, just the single bulb outside their home is unattended. I have a company, of course, the buzzing mosquitoes and the bugs that tried to catch my legs. But I just let them; I don't feel any.

Honestly, I became noiseless these past few days; I barely opened my mouth to speak to anyone. My relaxed vibe of mine in messaging virtual friends is already gone. My messenger is unattended, looking at this last night. Some people wanted to invite me to Banchetto, but I still didn't open the message. My active status was invisible to people to see. It might be my way of rebelling against the world; it just stays out and lays low.

Does the star fine? Are they not tired yet?

Maybe there will always be a time when they are exhausted. That is why they let the clouds cover them for even a little while, where they could rest from shining. Maybe regain their lights. There were also times when I could see no stars, but the cloud won't cover them; I guessed they were the ones who decided to get out and hide—hiding where they felt comfortable. But how about me? Looking at the stars is my comfort. Do they leave me with nothing left?.

The Orion, the constellation, is where I usually see it. The form of stars where you might see me crying in the night while walking in the oath of no lights when I was so young. Aries, the goat, is the group of stars I think doesn't care for me. I remember a book I read that Sirius is the brightest star. But there was ecstasy inside when I saw a red light from the sky at 5-6 PM. They said it was the planet Mars.

Sometimes I also enjoyed looking at the moving stars, I thought it was a star, but I was wrong. It was a moving plane traveling across the skies at night. Just glaring at the phenomenon where they traveled is like I was also on the trip, maybe the moon then?. Or I could travel in a universe where time and space are not equal. What if there was a chance of a hole in the outside universe? That will bring you back from the past and the future instead?. What is another blackhole will dive you into the parallel worlds. You were seeing yourself from another dimension.

The dimensions where what we're in this natural universe are insignificant. If I am drowning in this universe, maybe the others elf is enjoying the best breath he could.

There was a blessing of the starry skies; there is always a good breeze of air that conquers the nights. The soft power of the winds cast a spell on me and has robust mitigation. It feels like someone is hugging me, saying that it is okay.

Maybe that was why I enjoyed being alone in the night cloud of blankness, looking at the andromeda and feeling the air. Because it feels like the stars are communicating, reading my mind; as her hug response, they will blow fresh air. I hope so.