Star Light, Star Bright


Star light, star bright,

The first star I see tonight;

I wish I may, I wish I might,

Have the wish I wish tonight.


The rhyme echoed in my mind as I stood on the ledge of Sparx Hill. Despite my frequent trips to the peak, the view has never ceased to amaze me. The brightness of day was fading, gradually being replaced by the darkness of night, though not quite. The result was a blend of several shades of blue, laced with hints of orange. Who knew that two contrasting colours could look so beautiful in tandem?

I scanned the ocean as if trying to search for a friend lost at sea and there she was, peering back at me, over the horizon. It’s been a long day; you deserve a long rest, I whispered while squinting at the Sun. As if acknowledging my words, the waves seemed to blanket whatever left of the Sun that was visible, signalling the end of the day. I let out a deep breath and turned around. What was, minutes ago, a vast canvas of dark blue was replaced by pitch-black darkness. However, the darkness made it easier to admire the millions, if not billions of stars up above. They were scattered like moon dust, illuminating the night sky.

Just then, I caught a glimpse of a molten-gold streak from the corner of my eye. A shooting star, eh? If only wishes really did come true, I smiled bitterly, watching the comet’s trail disappear from sight. It’s been a little over a year since I lost her: the girl of my dreams, the woman of my life. Her last words still resonated within my very being: Live on.

I’m sorry, love. Life’s just not worth living without you. I took a step closer to the edge of the cliff. The waves were like wild horses, rearing upwards before crashing down onto the rocks below.  I took one last glance at the sky. The stars would be the only witnesses and they would tell no one. I’ll join you soon, my love, I whispered gently as I closed my eyes, and took a leap of faith.


Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt in close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate.
—Germaine Greer



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