I can look up into the night sky and see stars again. I can’t remember the last time I was able to do something like that, having lived in the city for so long after all. Yet, even with having infinity to gaze onto every single night, the real void of confusion is inside of me. What I am looking at, the stars and the lights, it makes sense. Every night that I go out and look at it it’s there, faithful and consistent. Why can’t I be like that?

I’m small, tiny, a blip in the grander scheme of things. Yet, I can see the grander scheme painted against the night sky when I look up. And every night, dutifully, with no one asking it to do so, it dresses itself and decorates the horizon. A feat that I am envious of. I think the reason why I envy the consistency is because I’m aware of my own self. That, in turn, allows me to be aware of my own insignificance. Why do something, consistently, when you know it won’t matter?

Or, do something because it doesn’t matter. The significance of it all isn’t relevant because I, as a person, am not relevant. So sometimes all we can do is shout into the void and see what it shouts back. Yet you and I know the void won’t shout anything back, it has said the same thing every single night since I could understand what night even is. I am truly envious to the point that I am sowing dissonance when everything revolving around me is consistent. Are we jealous that we can’t find satisfaction in the routine of it all?

Or are we chaotic beings surrounded by routine trying to learn from it all. I think this is about as high as I can get with a “higher order.” After all there’s a certain satisfaction to just letting things go and accepting that you can’t change anything. Of course, in this scenario, our enigmatic nature is the punishment and we seek relief from that punishment through permeating its existence into something that won’t allow it to fit. We’re not meant to be consistent, yet that’s what we find comfort in, if only for a moment.

My life, and probably yours, is like a snow globe. But we’re not living inside of the globe, we’re the hand that shakes it and finds emotion in what happens when we move it. But ultimately, it will always go back to the way it was before. We have the power to change things, but only for a moment, and that’s all we carry with us. The moments where we changed things just enough to make us smile. Or to make us cry.