“There are more stars than there are people. Billions, Alan had said, and millions of them might have planets just as good as ours. Ever since I can remember, I’ve felt too big. But now I felt small. Too small. Too small to count. Every star is massive, but there are so many of them. How could anyone care about one star when there were so many spare? And what if stars were small? What if all the stars were just pixels? And earth was less than a pixel? What does that make us? And what does that make me? Not even dust. I felt tiny. For the first time in my life I felt too small.”
Frank Cottrell Boyce, Cosmic
It’s a funny thing, becoming aware of your own insignificance. It goes against the very egocentric formatting of our human minds; it is quite a painful realization, and an even more painful acceptance. I sit with my thoughts at 3am, the dark surrounding me aside from the static hue from the television that I don’t want to get up and turn off. I’m going through my phase of not being able to sleep, and so I sit. I try to read, I try to watch tv, but my thoughts are so loud that they prevent escape. And so I just lie there with the buzzing in my head.
I am but a face in the crowd. I am just tip toeing my way around the same tap dance that we all are taking part of. It is a long one, if we are lucky, but seems to be over in an instant. There is nothing special about me; I will not change the world or save a life, nor will I ruin one. I always thought that I would be someone important, or that at the very least, I would do something important. I thought I would change something, be something, do something. There is a story inside of me that yearns to be told … and yet, there is always something blocking it from setting free. Perhaps it is the fear; fear that I will bare my soul and that it will be for nothing. After all, who am I? I am no one. No one to you. Why would anything I do matter?
The sky is so big, yet sometimes seems so small. My world is caving in and crumbling because I have allowed it to shrink. Once upon a time, it was endless. There were no borders to my world because there were no limits to what I believed I could do. Now, the borders are clear and the borders are so very close. I have trapped myself in, believing in my own insignificance so much that I have given up on most every dream. I want to blame everyone else, but in reality, it is me that locked me in. It is me. Not the stars.
Is it wrong to believe you mean something? To believe that you are of some worth in the bigger picture? I ask because I truly want the opinion of others, and I ask because I desperately need to know if I must doom myself with this belief of insignificance forever. The world is so cold, so ugly, so cruel, and my heart aches for all of its victims all day, everyday … but is it so bad to distract oneself from all of that wrong for awhile?
I want my world to be big again. I want to mean something to someone.
Thank you Weirdo, for the answer & for being a star in my sky – When Perspective Matters