They say: a star shines the brightest right before it dies - it gives it it's all, the distained regrets and hidden spark - all in an attempt to light up a little while longer before it inevitably get's sucked into it's own mass and turns into a black hole that eats the very thing it once created.

Sometimes I wonder if each one of us is a star. A star that gives up after trying so much... a star that has been told it can't be a star and it should probably be a moon like the rest of them - a star ripped off it's confidence, not because it didn't have one, but because it's light everyone refused to look at now complaining why it's a black, dark, shallow hole. A star that now is a sad, useless, light sucking soul that no one wants to be near to.

But maybe, just maybe, a comet will appear from the depths of existence, wild, unbothered, drawn by the gravity of something that no longer shines like it used to - something that still holds it's weight. A piece of unsuspecting fire-y rock rapidly revolving around it - giving it the a slight eliptical shower of attention. And if lucky, we get to experience a comet revolving a black hole. A comet that does not care if it's a star, or a dead star, or something that will cause it's own downfall.

And for a moment, even the once-star can feel alive when it feels a comet around it.