(This is something I wrote on my notebook while in a lecture today and I’m trying to get used to writing shorthand again, so I’m not going to edit this any further.)
Whenever you think that there’s nothing you’ll ever amount to, remember how you weren’t even supposed to be here in the first place — and yet here you are.
The calcium in your bones, for instance. Calcium isn’t a natural thing found on Earth. To produce it artificially, one has to cultivate it and one as to undergo years and years and years of waiting in order to come up with but an iota of calcium.
This makes you think, though; your bones are made of calcium…
What does that say about you?
***
A few billion years ago, a star filled with calcium exploded. Its calcium particles spread, gracing all it came across with with its presence. It came across the Milky Way, obviously, and it threw a part of it over the Earth as we know it (but then was nothing but a mewling, sniffling infant, as far as the heavens were concerned).
And what did the Earth do?
Well, the Earth took as much of the calcium as it could.
***
Which is why then, I guess, it’s perfectly fine to sometimes feel like you’ll never be anything, or to sometimes think that it’s as though you’re never really at home where you are.
First, because you’re already something.
And second, because you really aren’t at home here.
You’re stardust.
Each bit of you is made out of stardust.
You’re stardust.
And you belong to the universe.
Of perpetual finds 