A cool clear summer night, but spent indoors flooded in tears. Heartbreak blotted my phone, a loss, a breakup. “Im sorry, but we can still be great friends” hit me like a steam engine, just about the worst thing I could see on my screen. I feel small and insignificant in the universe, a brown dwarf of failed star material moping amidst grand galaxies. Not enough mass to grow into a beautiful star. It was a hopeless case, but despite the odds a small spark was lit inside the brown dwarf.

 I received a text from a family friend who is also my physics and astronomy teacher, Mr. Shaw. We get along great considering the both of us share a love for astronomy and photography. “The night is clear and beautiful for pictures!” he said, something I thought to myself that I had already known but was in no position to act on the matter. However, the yearning for a night under the stars is the very thing that lit the spark. I wished to gaze upon the perfect night and receive much needed aid in the art of astrophotography. I wanted no more with being the sorrowed lump of failed star, and I accepted the offer. The spark grew more, and the brown dwarf inside began to grow. 

Soon after I was out in the field with a soft hymn of bugs and the faded light of fireflies. The clinking of metal tripods and the beautiful green laser for stargazing felt comforting. “Now I assume you know how to find Scorpio?” Shaw said to me. “Well of course,” I replied, “Its right here.” as I gracefully drew the figure with the laser.  After some careful guidance and a thorough lesson, I felt ready to try my luck at the pictures. “You will want a higher ISO and a large aperture to take in all the light you can.” he advised. I felt the star inside of me began to grow with heat and light. 

 I aimed my camera into the dark abyss of glittering stars and clicked. Shaw and I  sat still, anticipation radiating off of us. The star made a photosphere and began to rotate just like a normal star, but still not quite there.  The camera’s exposure was long, but the wait stretched through eons. Suddenly there it was on the miniature camera screen, a perfectly spectacular picture of the summer constellations. Once my teacher showed pride, the flaming ball grew enormous and began fusing hydrogen, finally making it a true star. With every new attempt at capturing the nights magnificence I grew in excitement. By the end of the night I was the brightest star in the galaxy, and nothing could outshine me. 

You may be wondering why I chose to describe myself as a star, and it's for a good reason. You see, it was Shaw who taught me the life cycle of a star, and who also taught me the significance of them. He inspired my love for stars, so in a way this experience taught me to love myself in the hardest parts of my life.