Back in 2019 I was going through a difficult phase in my life. I was stuck in a thankless, soul-crushing job, far away from friends and family. Never before had I felt so incredibly lonely, with no one to turn to. At that point in time I’d begun to lose contact with my friends, and I couldn’t really make new friends due to my work-hours. I was just drained at the end of the week, leaving me with no energy to go out and socialize. I preferred to stay at home, play video games, maybe order in for a treat.
I thought I was doing okay, but I really wasn’t. I never had an exhilarating day, or a day that left me even mildly content. There were average days, and low days.
With no one to turn to apart from my wonderful girlfriend a thousand kilometres away, I didn’t really have any outlets to express what I was going through. All I did was eat my meals, work, talk to her, maybe play a video game or two. Read a bit before bed. Rinse and repeat.
I fell asleep crying with nothing but my pillow for company more times than I could count.
It started getting to me quicker than I could handle. I remember feeling like I was getting boxed in, in a city filled with people speaking a language alien to me, a city that was in sharp contrast to the places I’d lived in otherwise. It was unforgiving. You had to adjust quickly to the people, the food, the weather; you needed to understand the heart of the city to even begin to feel like you’re home. It wasn’t bad per se, in fact, towards the end I even began to see the beauty in life in the city. I just don’t think it was a city meant for someone like me, that’s all. What made it even harder was the fact that I didn’t have a way out, and I simply couldn’t find another job because of certain legal obligations.
Up until then I hadn’t really taken up this idea of writing in my spare time. But then again I’d never felt the need to make an emotional outlet for myself before. My writing was limited to love letters to my girlfriend. In a way, I’m thankful for her love of letters. For her constantly pushing me to write because she believed that I was good with words. Without that, I’d never have been motivated to pick up the metaphorical pen.
Without that, this blog would be an afterthought in my mind instead of living on the internet right now.
Speaking of my girlfriend.
She’s the first person I ever went stargazing with. Nobody else in my life ever understood the fascination I have with the endless beauty of the night sky, and honestly I’d never really felt comfortable enough to simply stare up in silence at the sky, enjoying the quietude and the company of the person beside me until I met her. My interactions with other people kept me firmly grounded, but with her, I felt like I could simply exist, absorbing the peace and solitude unique to a sky implying the existence of things so much greater than you could ever be.
Meeting her reinforced the inspiration I used to get from simply gazing up, something I will be eternally grateful for. I remember wondering if she was gazing up at a similar sky as mine when we were separated.
One night alone, after I got off the phone with her I was meandering about on the street in front of my home after a particularly rough day, just trying to breathe in the air outside because I could not stand getting back to my room, in front of my laptop for another second.
I remember thinking the weather was nice for a change, and that perhaps it might rain soon.
I looked up at the sky to check for clouds, when I realized I hadn’t done that in so long. Something that was like breathing to me. Life had brought me down to a state in which I’d forgotten to gaze up at something that always stirred something inexplicable and wondrous within me.
That’s when I realized I needed to get my life on track, so that looking up became second nature to me once again.
And that’s how this blog was born. Ramblings of a Stargazer.
I don’t know what I’ll be putting on here. I know that there are so many things left unsaid, so many things I want to express. Life hasn’t been that great for me lately, and people do say writing is therapeutic so who knows?
I also remember naively wishing for my friends to read the same books I read, to play the same games I play, to even listen to the same songs I hear. All because I wanted to share with them what I felt while experiencing those things. Obsessing over the same things with someone else brought a rare sparkle to my eye.
But that’s unrealistic in today’s day and age. This is my outlet to the world, so that I can share the things that make my heart flutter and my eyes twinkle without forcing my interests upon anyone.
Keep looking up!
