I know it’s young and childish, But sometimes I find myself looking to the night sky. I think about the hundreds of years it took for those lights, to reach us. I think about the people who have lived in those years, I think about the people who have d!ed. I think about the people who have suff3red, I think about the people who survived. I think about the people who keep pushing through, no matter how many challenges they face. And I find myself bound to those stars and the stories they tell, Like a writer to their pen, A singer to their voice. I think about how all my talents, They do not appear to me mindlessly like sports. They are about telling stories, Living for those who have d!ed. Crying for those who have suff3red. Cheering for those who have survived. I find myself starbound, telling those stories until the end of time. And one day, maybe the light from the stars that are shining now, will reach a young person in a city, village, or town. And they will think about those who have told stories, and I will be right there, Still starbound, Still surviving.
