I don't know if you would ever get to read this, but if you do, you know that it is written for you.
Me? I am a nebula light years away. Not very noticeable or especially bright, but I've been seeing you for a very long time indeed. From there you might say I look like a jolly ol' cloud. My color changes a lot, but within this eon I seem to be best at my lilac and bright blue. You may have seen me once or twice as you look across the sky.
I know that he did hurt you so. I saw him and his friend kicking about, treating you badly as they stepped on you, and with their tools so heartless, made wounds on your skin big and small... and when they left, they took pieces of you with them. I know that you can still hear the planets whispering about it upon fateful nights, they say bad things about them, and about you, but don't let that dim your shine.
Even though I know that you've never felt whole again since that time, but please believe me, I see how you are still shining, so vivid and so wonderful from here. I believe in you.
Stars have anthems. They make their own borders and they govern their own nations. Some even made songs for themselves. The sun may have never told you this, because you know what, the sun is embarrassed. It was once worshiped as a god, but then the humans had to go ahead and put their own things on the pedestrians. Little things they are, believing in the high and the low, although I have lived long enough to know that the laws of the universe allow no such thing as simple as up or down. The bright and the night are woven into one another, there is no part of you, no phase of you that would stay forever. You may not feel whole now, and you are not required to be, but you can slowly work your way towards it. No one can be beautiful all the time, and all the wanes you go through is only so that one day you could be full once again.
In case you want to hear something funny: as humans wish upon falling stars, some stars wish upon falling humans. Now you have a reason to laugh about them, especially the mean ones who tread on you with their flying tin can.
You might be feeling bad about yourself that you're not as shapely as those stars or even planets, with all the scars and battered marks. But let me tell you a secret: even the stars themselves aren't exactly round. They only appear almost so, and the rest is just reputation, you know how they like to brag. And most planets feel queasy inside. They might try to look hard and strong and smart, but beneath that surface they're as soft as water.
Here is the second secret: you are not like the sun. There are many mysterious things under your light. The tides, they follow you. The people, they still look upon you and dance in your gleam. Your light guides the way for lost travelers. You are the magic that conspires poets and those insane, although many have argued that both are one and the same. And most importantly... there are those who whisper secrets to you on lonely nights, when they think nobody is listening. To have been trusted with secrets is one of the most admirable things one could possibly achieve.
You might argue that there is no such thing as a secret, as when it is known, it ceases to be, so here is my third secret, or as you might say, the not-secret:
I love you
And if you could not see why, I can no longer tell, as I have already told you. So I will let a wandering comet hold this letter, across the sea of stars, across the universe to find you... as our meeting may not meant to be, my only desire is to let you know that there is hope, that you would find what it takes to venture forth in your own way and brighten the night for those who need you. All I wish is that you may never have to be lonely again, and that you might feel, once in a while, something akin to love, when you turn your gaze upon the sky,
My dearest moon 🌕
Your secret admirer
Written in this book
Stranger in the Night
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