SomeTimes, even stars fall down.
Fishing for fallen stars
S. T. A. R. S.
These five letters make a word. Like most letters. You could have house or birds or hippo: they all have five letters. But why have I chosen stars? A book about hippos would be fun, i could write of a hunted house or a talking bird. So why stars? What’s so important about these burning balls of gas, burning thousands of hundreds of miles away? Why have I chosen them? Why?
Well life is just one big ‘why’ isn’t it. “Why can’t I have this” and “why is he doing that” Why am I called what I’m called what I’m called? Why are you hear? Why are you reading this? Why.
I’ll say it again: why have I chosen stars. Think about it. Don’t just read it and read the next line. Don’t just imagine a star and say you thought about it. Think.
Well if you thought about it, you may begin to wonder why stars are in the sky, why we can’t touch them, why they only come out at night. Why. Or, if you don’t just think, you may begin to wonder why there are shooting stars. Answer:
Stars fall. They fall because they don’t think they have the strength to stay where they are. They fall because they worry. And their worries weigh them down until their so heavy they can’t fly any more. They can’t be bothered. They don’t see the point.
They fall because their light goes out.
But someone, somewhere, somehow, picks them back up. They go to the bottom of space to lift them into the sky so they shine brighter then ever before.
How do I know this? Because I fell out of the sky once. I gave up on life. But someone picked me back up. And this is my story.
This is why I chose stars. This is why.

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