Dream of the Stars, Tonight

She was a girl of the stars. If you looked in her eyes, you could see the universe laid out before you. She was the kind of person who enjoyed thinking more than doing, but did more than she should. 

Her predecessors were dreamers, all of them, their ideas exceeding the atmosphere of the Earth and spreading to the expanse of space. Of the constellations, Jupiter's moons, the frosted rings of Saturn. And even further, dreams of shooting past the twinkling lights of the stars. Alone, forever. 

She considered her life as tragic as it could be. A girl who only yearned to stretch past the borders of the Earth, but was deceived by time. She mourned the misfortune of her birth so early, and wished that she were but brought into the world centuries later. 

On her sixteenth birthday, she received a stack of notebooks--and filled them all only months after. She'd stayed for hours each night on the balcony, gazing at the sky, but she didn't observe them. No, she simply watched, simply wished. 

Her life was tragic, she thought. 

She was a girl of the stars, and if you looked into her eyes, you could see it. The yearning for more. The love of theatrics, of the hyperbolistics. 

She was a girl of the stars, and she was tragic.