Sometime I'd like to float with the stars

'Sometime, I'd like to float with the stars,' thought a teenage boy. He was lying in bed, quite sad. He wasn't normally this sad, not during the day.

He liked the night, even if the dark was a little frightening. He wouldn't be disturbed, he wouldn't be seen. He sometimes danced, sometimes played, sometimes sat, and sometimes cried. He never cried during the day.

'The stars would be so beautiful,' he continued in his head. He wished he could see the stars in the sky more. He used to know many constellations, but like most things, he lost them after a few months. Despite knowing better, he thought his life was boring.

He often wondered if he could live a more exciting life if he lived in the past; as a farmer, a pirate, a knight, a lord, a warrior, a butler, a servant, a survivalist, a fisherman, though he wasn't in a false reality. He knew it wasn't comfortable to live back then. But at least it would probably be more exciting.

'I should probably sleep,' he thought. When he wasn't thinking of the past, he was thinking of the future. Would life be more exciting in the future? As an explorer in space, maybe living on another planet. Over the past few years, he realized that the world likely wasn't going in that direction.

When it wasn't the past or future, it was fiction. He read a lot. Played a lot. Thought a lot. If only he was a mage, a knight, a starship captain, a wizard, a warlock, a starship trooper. Anything that was exhilarating. He had many complaints with life, but he didn't mind the difficulties. The only grievance he had was how boring it was.

'Whatever, it's Summer,' he thought. He hardly cared about sleep during school, why care during Summer? He complained about school often. He knew he shouldn't, he went to a very good school. But he could be in the best school on the planet and still be bored.

It wasn't as if he didn't try. He played soccer for years, he tried basketball, baseball, and a little bit of football. He ran track and cross country, he fenced, he hiked, and he lifted. Nothing he did lasted. His interest was quick to go, usually only a month. It was the same for the games he loved, the models he painted, the cards he played, and all of the things he did.

He thought life had no direction. Like nothing he did would matter. He wished he never lived, he wanted to live.

'Maybe I should write?' he often thinks. Maybe it will help him. Probably not.

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twenty Other July 09, 2025 at 2:09 am 1 0