I'm Marie, 23, with three brothers and a family that loves me — or so I think. They're caring, kind, and always there, but sometimes I wonder if they see me — the real me beneath the surface.
Like, how can you feel loved when everyone's love feels like a polite echo, not a warm hug?
Maybe that's why I'm stuck, drifting between what's expected and what my heart really wants.
I procrastinate figuring it all out — maybe tomorrow, or the day after, or forever.
But at night, when the world goes quiet, I dream.
I dream of the stars — their endless, mysterious dance — and the secrets they hold.
I dream of stories waiting to be told, of words that could reach hearts and maybe even change lives.
I dream of finding a place where I truly belong, where I'm not just seen but understood.
I wonder all those things at night, at supper time. When I lift my hand up to the sky — to the stars — I feel a strange feeling for a microsecond, like I want that feeling more.
Then suddenly, my mom calls me to dinner, and I feel a flicker of sadness. I don't know why, but still.
Just as I turn away from the window, my phone buzzes with a message from my boss at the flower shop.
Really- no maybe, just maybe, the stars are winking at me.
For a moment, I almost forget everything I've known until now .
I. WAS. LIKE
ME. REALLY ??