The Universe Itself

I once had dreamt of having the same impact as the singularity when it emerged into a vast space now called the universe – a shelter for the planets we knew, for the stars we tried to discover, for the comets we did anticipate, and even for the asteroids we often expected to also turn into homes. It was slow, but definitely sure; unending and colossal. Indeed, it was one of greatest dreams I had formed within my mind that often had galaxies on its own – wondrous, but baffling.

Yes, I was that perplexed.

It was a lesson I used to hear when I was younger. All the persons surrounding me seemed to tell me almost the same thing – great things did not start great. They came small, from the littlest amount of effort and resources, molded together to create an outstanding result. Since then, I had started to believe that whatever looked tiny for me were actually great things that were still being processed. I knew, they were meant to turn into something I would not expect that I, myself, made.

Days, months, even years had passed. I began wondering why progress in the things I did seemed less evident than the mistakes I had committed. Why did an image I colored with such vibrant hues look as though it just had been mottled with black ink? Why did the strokes of neon paints seem to summon darkness whenever I left them? Puzzling, it was. I had sought answers a lot of times, even more frequent than what a month in a year could count. But all I received were questions, tons of them. It was as if I was screaming everything inside a cave only to have them crashing back at me, reverberating to each side of my head and into my ears.

A galaxy was crumbling. A black hole just had appeared on a portion of my head, succumbing a part of my being I always deemed substantial. It was that hope that whatever I did, may it be big or small, it was intended to turn out great. It disappeared almost as fast as the speed of light. It was terrible and its absence only made me think of cold prison cells with walls blocking the skies, preventing me from seeing a more realistic form of Milky Way, Andromeda and the rest of their kind that had been contained inside my head.

Those evenings, too, should pass. But when I realized how the color of night sky stole the luminescence I thought I'd be grasping for a lifetime, I could not help but yearn for signs of dawn, mornings and blinding sunshine. I began longing for the sun to finally cast its light upon me and save me from the nightmares I could not escape. I wished upon stars, for them to carry me out of the dim room where my own thoughts locked me in and pledged that I would rot there forever. Save my galaxies. Save me.

There, I knew, I became a part of the universe I dreamed to be; except I was an aged cosmic nebula that almost exploded after caging innumerous stars I could neither name nor recognize – ones that I never wanted to dwell in my premise.

Little did I know that not everything that had ended badly would begin again as something so beautiful. I saw it when a star I had provided a shelter for died, and eventually resurrected into a brighter one. For some unknown reasons, the rest of the nebula population followed and started exploding like the fireworks I had always loved. Magical, they were. They exemplified perfectly the capricious line between a deleterious ending and a majestic beginning. It was then when everything became shrouded with light once again, after a long horrendous rest.

It was the impact I was talking about and had been always looking forward to – the moment where I was able to turn a mere possibility to reality, the instant where I had managed to utilize darkness to create something new and that was evidently great. I made light come out of the sea of grave dreams I dealt with when I was lacking the hope I had always used as a key to unlock new worlds I wished to explore. I proved myself capable of fulfilling my dream.

As I found myself wandering back and forth on a seemingly unfamiliar universe I had brought myself to, with a new set of galaxies spiralling inside my head, I was fully aware, that was my cue to start over. I had finally gained the chance to recreate the little things I was building before and continue until they become what I was anticipating them to be.

From my journey of sequential vibrance, darkness and light, I realized that I, myself, was also a work in progress. These galaxies residing within me, they were also meant to grow, crumble and function once again as I led off to chasing each new dream I had thought of. As much as I desired my name to be given astounding meanings for the great changes I had caused mainly myself, with regards to honing my traits and the aspirations I possessed, I would also like to go beyond that. I did not want to be defined and bound with just words. Like the universe, I wanted to be limitless.