If someone would ask me whether I like this kind of stuff or not, probably I'd answer: no, not in particular.
When I said “this kind of stuff” what I meant was the star.
It was quite weird for a guy to like the star, after all. But I guess I was interested in it, just enough, though.
Still, even though I don't actually like stars from the beginning, I wonder why and when did I'd think about stars this deeply. I even look for it in books and yeah sometimes I admitted that I enjoy it.
Every day, a new star is born... and as stars are born every time the world spin, the old one loses its light and ended up dying.
I do think that logic also applies to us humans, as the babies born, some died.
Of course, I wasn't telling this to you just because I wanted to talk about life and death. And I wasn't telling this stuff just to brag my knowledge. I just wonder when and why did I start to like stars.
“......”
Maybe that's it...
The sensation of cold breeze that night still lingered around my body. And maybe because of the star that I'd met that night.
The star shows that its beauty in its surrounding, but gradually lost its light.
Right, I remember now.
It all started when I met a certain girl, sitting near the edge of our school's rooftop while peering through the lenses of her telescope.
Was that a telescope? I don't know since that day, I just spent most of my time lazing around.
Average grades.
No after-class club.
And not belong to any circles.
Someone could tell that I was quite a delinquent at that time, but the type of delinquent that doesn't resort to violence. Is there something like that? Maybe a free spirit or lost lamb was the best words to describe the person I was.
Still, after I opened the rooftop's door, I saw her and froze on my feet.
Her hair fluttered along with the dance of the wind. She was smiling while peering on the telescope(?)'s lenses, and it seems she really enjoying herself. She was sitting on the floor but it was covered by some kind of cushions. And on her side, the thing that kept pulling my eyes was a wheelchair.
The hem of her white dress splayed out perfectly around her. I never knew her, nor seeing her face somewhere. It was the first I saw her and the first time I fell silent and want to watch someone.
She's beautiful, a star under the light of the moon.
I unconsciously move my feet towards her and before I even noticed I was already standing by her.
My heart felt burning, and it felt someone squeezing my chest making me unable to breathe.
“Hey, what's your name?”
and before I got back to my senses, I'd ask her this question.
Maybe that was the reason I fell in love with the star, the night when I saw a star peacefully basking in the moonlight, the night that I'd met her.
However, just like what I'd said earlier. Every day a new star is born and some died.
