My name's The Star. Growing up, that's what I had been told by the matronly ladies around me. It what's the name means in Arabic.
But nothing about me is remotely stellar. I have been a perfectionist by birth, and I know it's costing me my life. My problem is I want to be "That Star", while knowing that I just can't.
I'm not enticing in any way—be it looks, brains, charm, or height. Before I had the energy to stop myself, I fell. And falling I still am into an endless pit of nothing but howling freefall. I simply toppled over; my body just drooped shut by itself and instinctively jumped...for the best.
I have nothing to live for and cherish. My whole person is the most fitting embodiment of undernourishment. Ugly parasites crawl onto me and latch onto my skin, boring into my core as it sucks me of life. No prizes for being able to identify the said parasites.
I'm ugly. And I can't help it.
I'm stupid for the way I think. I could be smart just if I wanted to, but no — I don't. And I can't help it.
Don't you dare save me. I'm falling. And I'm happy.
I'm falling with a smile. I suggest you do too. It's most liberating.
Suck it in. You're not going places. End of story.
Author Notes: This is NOT a suicide note! Please don't jump to conclusions.