Sky Full Of Stars

I am a sky full of stars, visible, constant, inspiring, unknown. Sometimes I hide behind black clouds and pretend you can’t see me. Sometimes I am so brilliant you can’t help but look up and smile.

I am.

I am notebooks filled with scribbles and comments, numbers and words. A few blank pages. A lot of nonsense. Disconnected thoughts. A grocery list and a string of codes that few people would understand. And sometimes, a glimpse of sheer brilliance.

I am.

I am the air. The wind and the sun. I am all that you can taste or smell or hear. But I am nothing that you can keep in a box.

I am.

I am the collection of childhood memories and teenage dreams. I am Saturday morning cartoons, sugar-stained sundresses and shoes that will never fit.

I am.

I am an avalanche that may never happen. A collection of needless, colourless things that build and build and build, until I let them melt away or I finally collapse and make a mess of everything.

I am.

I am summer days and lemonade.

I am.

I am every colour of the rainbow.

I am.

I am someone’s daughter. I am someone’s sister. I am someone’s lover. I am someone’s friend. And I am the stranger on the train.

I am.

I am America.

I am.

I am freedom and acceptance and patience and hope. I am not afraid to live.

I am.

I am not afraid to die.

I am.

I am the lyrics to the song in your head. I am the beat of the drum. I am grace. I am art.

I am not a navigator of Maybes and What Ifs. I am an adventurer without a map and nothing but hopes and dreams in my pockets.

I am.

I am everything that I can be, today.

Tomorrow? I will be something better.