When I was younger,
I thought the night sky was mine.
Like it waited for me—
to dream, to believe, to rise.
But the more I grew,
the more the stars seemed quieter.
They didn't twinkle for me anymore.
They just watched.
I kept walking, even when my feet bled.
Hoping the sky would notice,
Hoping someone would.
And now…
I don't want the whole sky.
I just want one star.
One that looks at me and says—
You're still light. Even when you think you're not.