#278 The Extinguished Star

by Megan Lung

All my life, they spun much more closely to the sun than me. As a result, they received the sunlight for photosynthesis, which contributed to an evolution of herbivores and carnivores that account for the complex worlds they are today.

I never spun close enough to the sun for any of that. I couldn’t turn fast enough. My orbit drifted as the sun’s immense gravity failed to trap me. The farther I got, the more insane it all seemed. All those tiny planets spinning on their imaginary axes so they wouldn’t fall out of orbit and end up on the dark side.

I’ve long since strayed too far. My atmosphere is bleak. My surface is barren. Every now and then, tidbits of garbled news swim towards me through the thick ether of space.

I tried to end my life, but nobody likes to admit that they’ve produced a mistake. So they keep me on the map of the universe for their own ego. So that they can try to convince themselves that I’m the crazy and they’re the normals.

The calming blue colors of this ward are insulting. To them, I am an infant in need for a neural reprogramming. They are trying to lobotomize my thoughts.

I can no longer reflect the images that others want to see. I cannot live on just so they can continue believing in an agreed upon reality.

With a slash of this knife, I am the extinguished star, brighter than the sun.

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