The Last of the Twentieth Century Girl
It was a night no different than any other. The stars were still in their places, there was still one Moon in the sky and all the street lamps, excluding one, were on with a dizzying array of bugs swirling around the florescent beams of light. I stood listlessly in the middle of an empty street, head tilted upwards towards the sky, hands tucked into my pockets, wondering if anyone out there saw me and if they did, what were their thoughts.
“Oh look at that poor lonely girl in the middle of the street…”
Maybe for a split second I provided a reassuring reminder of all their accomplishments, after all, they weren’t the ones standing in the middle of a lonely street. Maybe even a wave of relief would comfortably ensconce them at the visible reminder that they weren’t in my shoes. Their initial assumption would be that this must surely be my all-is-lost moment and that I was looking desperately for God or the universe to remedy my problems. They’d then shut the drapes, shake their heads and continue on with their lives. What they would never know is that in that moment their instincts were flawed, having led them far away from the actual truth.
I’m a poet. Not a very popular one but, isn’t that how all poets start? I have a calling to create and share beautiful stories. Stories with dimension and layers, the ones that would require me to experience all life has to offer – the good, the bad and even the boring. I want to learn from it all and transform my limitations to possibilities. I sought to carve out a life for myself, a place for my dreams to thrive, for the best version of me – that person I imagined myself to be and firm foundations like that came with sacrifice. I had to give up everything I ever had in order to understand what absolute freedom was. I marked this as my first step. It was in that vast emptiness where the best potential for growth and creation resided – where I could perceive what my heart beat for minus all the noisy interference. Socially imposed milestones, which I called distractions from forming true strength of character, had no place in my plan. Finish college, find a sweetheart, first home at twenty-six, get married and children at thirty, work your way up to the career ladder. Retire. What then? But make no mistake, I too desire all these pleasant things but where it’s different for me is that I chose to follow no chronological order and, I wanted to reach these milestones through my passions. When creation springs from a passion, the foundation and the longevity is more complete and pure like 24 carat gold.
Like all things in life, this calling, or rather curiosity to make the puzzle pieces make sense, started in high school. My best friend was the first person to point out to me the big and little dipper. We were fourteen years old and on Friday nights we’d go to the bleachers at the back of our school and talk about why the high school girls were so mean to each other, why the older boys would call us on the weekend but never talk to us in the hallways, we’d talk about our future, so sure that the oddities of high school life would end at high school, not knowing that it would only get worse – boys still wouldn’t call and girls became even more competitive amongst one another. After our graduating year, life took a toll on our friendship and we went our separate ways – maybe it was because she was okay with just collecting the puzzle pieces’ society imposed and I was questioning it all too much. I’d never meet a friend like her again.
Tonight the night sky was clear, but I couldn’t find either of the dippers. It felt like I was the only one in the world looking at the starlit sky. There was a silence that enveloped me but it wasn’t violent like the kind that surrounds you when you’re lying in bed at night unable to fall asleep. The vastness and minuscule nature of our universe, beginning as something smaller than a grain of sand and expanding out so fast that even a blink of an eye would be a vast over estimation – forming our world and the milky way galaxy – both dizzied and dazzled me to the point of almost losing consciousness. Suddenly societies puzzle pieces seemed to not have a place in all of this.
I was in the second grade when I first learned about the planets in our solar system and space. Nine fidgety children lined up across the stage in a musty school gymnasium, cautiously holding a cardboard cutout of the planet they portrayed in front of the rest of the school. The lights went off and we had flashlights wrapped around our tiny wrists to illuminate our chosen planet. I played the role of Uranus. The seventh planet away from the Sun and the fourth largest planetary mass in the solar system. Uranus needed and craved change, it’s the planet that’s in charge for bolts from the blue and being unconventional and eccentric-celebrating originality and unity, a paradox in everything it did. Beside me was Neptune, God of the sea. The planet of dreams and inspiration, illusions and confusion. Unlike Earth, Neptune had fourteen moons and I believed that his favorite had to be Triton. Eventually they’d be torn apart due to Tritons natural inward spiral and this ill-fated destiny is too predictable with the type of planet Neptune is. In a twinkling he’ll forever be reminded of his lover Triton whose dust will dispose glittering light around Neptune. All the way at the end was Pluto, which was a planet then and not so much now – he probably misses that very much. Those planets resonated the most with me. Their lessons left marks. My second grade self saw these planets as unique as Earth and I wondered what life was like for them. Just as I did then, I still believe there is life on all of the planets maybe just existing in dimensions we could not see.
Then there’s Mars, the planet where everyone wants to go. It’s almost as though we’ve completely thrown up our hands and gave up on Earth. Mars, to me, seemed like a war-like planet, menacingly glowing red and dusty. Nothing about Mars was inviting except for it’s blue sunset. Almost as if to say, “I surrender! I’ve let my guard down and now it’s time for rest”. What exactly did we plan to gain with Mars exploration? What were we looking to find? Will the baristas there remember our order after we’ve been frequenting the same coffee shop for years? They don’t here. Do people hold the door there and say “Thank you”? Do Martians smile back when another Martian smiles at them? Or do they turn a blind eye like we often do here. They surely must picket and riot for a change, right? And if there is no love, do they at least demonstrate respect for one another? Are they maybe fluent in empathy?
A car aloofly drove by an adjacent street snapping me out of my thoughts – zooming past, paying me no mind and I preferred it that way. I was never one for small talk, let alone one at 11:43 pm on a cold, mysterious and dreary November night. There was only one house on the street that was glowing from a light from a distant room deep within the house. All the others were dark, as they habitually were. Growing up in an apartment building my father would point out to me when we’d drive through a wealthy neighborhood how the lights were always off and how cold the houses felt. It must’ve made him feel better about his life choices and never owning a home of his own. At least he had a tiny apartment where the lights were always on. I never viewed it as anything more than they were simply conserving energy and besides, why did all the lights need to be on?
Looking up again my eyes met with stars. “Those stars are so romantic” everyone would say. The way they lit up the night sky and formed constellations to tell stories of the Gods and human archetypes. To me they were lonely, forever in solitude because of their biggest tragedy; not knowing their beauty and only shining when they were already dead. They remained a million miles apart from one another, not knowing that a million miles away existed another just like them. Maybe some of them would worship and aspire to be like the Sun to pass the time. The Sun was after all the brightest and biggest star in the sky, but what they didn’t know is that it wasn’t in the cards for them, they could never become the Sun no matter how hard they tried. If only they could establish a union with the satellites to transmit messages amongst one another, then maybe they wouldn’t feel so lonesome.
My life wasn’t that much different. I would go back home, wash off my make-up, apply my serums and moisturizers and look at the reflection staring back at me. I was in a World that seemingly wanted to regularly remind you what you were lacking. Work harder, save more, drive a better car, have a better body and tell no one your secrets, share no compliments or complaints unless enough people are complaining. For all one knows maybe the other planets have figured it all out. Or maybe they hadn’t. Maybe we’re little fragments of all the planets. Our ideas and the way we communicate and share knowledge because of the influence of Mercury, Mars directing our aggression and how we execute our ideas-our drive, our beauty and the way we love lay in the loving hands of Venus, Jupiter the giver of gifts and luck and the synchronicities in our lives. Our bodies contain the secrets of the universe and sometimes for a glimpse I could witness the galaxy when the Sun was in perfect angle to my eyes- reflecting and radiating universal beauty of everything that’s been before me and what’s ahead.
Instead here we chose to focus on puzzle pieces.
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