when i was broken and crying oceans and twelve years old, she leaned down to tell me, “life is like this sweetheart, and you can't change it, can't change it – can't change it. when you're lying in the gutter bruised and beaten and afraid of tomorrow, spin your eyes upwards and look at the stars, look at the stars.”

that was all. that was all she gave me, and maybe it was all she could give me, but i kind of wish there had been more. when yesterday is decimated and tomorrow is a great gaping terror of the unknown, how can the stars help me, those pinpoints of light millions of miles away? i wanted to ask her what she meant, but the look in her eyes told me not to. like if i asked, i would ruin the magic; like if i asked, i would never know. like if i asked, i would realise they were only words, but words intended to make me feel better; somehow, slightly better.

i can't kiss my bruises, i can't fade my scars. i can't heal you when i can't heal myself, but i can give you the same bit about the stars that she gave me, years ago, lifetimes ago. no, i don't know what it means, but does it really need to mean anything?

you need to smile, even though we both know you're still so raw and numb. cold, alone, homeless-hopeless-helpless, but you know, you just have to breathe, one breath at a time, until you see another sunrise.