As I walk under the night sky, I can’t help but sense this horrid thing that is to come. This restless thought that a dying star still has enough power—so much power. Maybe I relate more to a star than I thought, slowly dying, watching everything around me shine bright—much like I was before. New stars being born around me with so much power that I might as well be forgotten—even after all I have done. I am nothing but a prick of light amongst billions of bigger and stronger stars that are able to create such viable opportunities. If I burn out, maybe no one will notice I am gone. How wonderful that would be! To be forgotten is such a wonderful thing—why care about being forgotten when you don’t have such things to be remembered for! It is such a bore to try and be remembered. Why live so long trying to create such a stain on someone’s life when you can leave them with nothing. But if I leave now before my time is up, will they finally start to care? Will they talk about how great I was or how I changed so many people’s lives? I never even bothered to help myself! Maybe someone tried to help me, talk me out of what I’m about to do. But I couldn’t care about how they feel, they’re the ones that did this to me. They made me do this! For I hope they try to repent for what they have done to me—oh I hope they do! But it won’t matter, for I know what they have done. Such selfish minds, weeping for the acts they committed. Yet they shall be remembered, while I am forgotten. They will be the ones to make that bloody stain! I shall remain nothing more than a thought that remains in their head until we meet again.