Between the Stars and You

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I Shine Because You Are Close

They are far away—
and yet, somehow, that distance makes them clearer.
No one has to call their name for them to be seen.
The sky simply holds them,
and they shine without hesitation.

And me?

I might be closer to you than any star,
yet I feel… strangely harder to notice.

I learned something painful through loving you:
closeness doesn’t always mean visibility.

A star never asks,

“Can you see me?”
“Do I matter to you?”

It doesn’t bargain with the sky.
It doesn’t plead for recognition.

It simply shines—
in the only way it knows how.

Not because it is certain someone will be reached by its light,
but because that is what it was born to do.

And I think that’s what love looks like at its purest:
not proof… but devotion.

I know the truth.

There is distance between us—
a distance that cannot be crossed in a single breath,
no matter how desperately my heart runs toward you.

And still, I cannot stop.

Even knowing I may never reach you,
I keep loving you.

Because in the end,
this is not something that happened to me—
this is something I chose.

Sometimes I wonder,

What if my light is too quiet,
too gentle—
so gentle that no one ever notices it?

What if I am holding this love
with no hands reaching back?

That thought scares me.

And yet…
even inside that fear, I gather myself again.

Because I’ve come to believe this:

Light is not lit by applause.
It is kept alive by choice.

Stars do not envy dawn.

Even when morning arrives
and steals them from the sky,
they do not grieve.

Because they understand something humans forget:

Disappearing does not mean being erased.
It only means their time has passed—
for now.

I want to learn that kind of peace.

To love without vanishing.
And even if I must vanish,
to never lose myself.

Perhaps the stars feel nothing.

And because they feel nothing,
they are full.

They do not demand.
They do not negotiate.

They do not ask for anything in return.

Their feeling is quiet devotion,
long patience,
an unspoken longing that never becomes bitter.

So then—
what about my feelings for you?

How different are they?

Honestly…

They aren’t so different.

I do not demand that you see me.
I do not blame you for not looking up at my sky.

I am satisfied with something smaller, something softer:

To exist somewhere near the edge of your life—
quietly, steadily—
as a light you never asked for,
but may someday need.

Even if you never learn my name.

Even if you never realize
I was there at all.

But there is one difference
between me and the stars.

The stars do not hurt
when they are unseen.

I do.

And still, I choose to shine.

Because you are too close to my heart—
so close that my feelings have nowhere to go
but outward,
into light.

So if one day you ask me,

“What’s the difference
between the feelings of the stars
and the feelings you have for me?”

I will answer like this:

The stars shine because they are far away.
And I…

I shine because you are so close.

Written in the quiet hours, for the one I never stopped loving.

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Not Everything Needs My Full Weight

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  Learning to Live a Little Lighter I’m slowly learning that I don’t have to give everything my full weight. Not every thought needs to be followed. Not every feeling needs to be explained. Not every person needs my whole heart. There were times when life felt almost unbearable— heavy days, quiet pain, moments I didn’t know how to name. But those moments came not to break me, only to teach me something I wasn’t ready to hear before. That I can learn. And keep learning. Even when I don’t understand yet. I’ve noticed that when I expect less, I’m disappointed less. When I try less to prove myself, I hurt less. Some people give too much, too carefully, and end up wounded by their own kindness. I’m learning not to do that anymore. To live a little lighter. Not careless— just lighter. I see it everywhere now. When I move gently, my body doesn’t ache as much. When I begin slowly, I don’t regret the next day. Most things hurt less when I don’t force them. Even ...
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The Back We Will One Day Show

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The Backs We Watch Watching someone’s back quietly, without calling their name, makes my heart a little more beautiful, a little more humble. The back of a delicate bird that flies away the moment you speak. The back of a white butterfly that dances off before you even think to call it. The back of a poet who stays for a long while, just because the sunset by the sea is beautiful. The backs of nuns walking slowly along a corridor, or sitting in silence, praying. And then— one day, before leaving this world, my mother appeared in my dream, empty-handed, walking toward the gate of the convent, her back turned to me. At a funeral hall, the backs of family members standing again and again before the portrait of someone they loved. Why do backs always look a little sadder than faces? Why do they make us stare at the horizon, as if waiting for something we cannot name? Perhaps it is because, someday, we know we will also leave quietly— imagining in advance the back we will one day show to th...
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She Simply Made Space

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The Quiet Act of Waiting She was not someone who tried to keep things. She was someone who knew how to let them go. Her hand was empty— not calling the bird, not preparing to hold it. Just open, as if flying away was always allowed. The white bird carried a letter, but she did not wonder what it said. Some feelings are already delivered long before they arrive. Things that leave rarely offer explanations. Understanding is left to those who remain. Petals fell. The light leaned toward evening. Below her, the city breathed as if nothing had changed at all. She was not waiting. She knew even waiting can become a way of holding on. So she simply made space. Some goodbyes are spoken through posture, not words. And some kinds of love remain only by knowing how to release them.
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