You look up and you see the bright, shining lights and you are lost in the unknown oblivion of thousands of millions of plain, old, stars. Such majestic beings of so much complexity, and so much beauty. You soak in the wonder, and yet, you ponder. You ponder how much are disappearing, right before your eyes. Then you realize, you are like one of these stars. We are all one of these stars, the black spaces in between represent the catalyst cushion of life and abeyance that is there, but is a popular minority. If you were to disappear, somebody would notice. The sky would be different, some way. That feeling of contravariety that you can't quite put your finger on, but it doesn't seem as bright anymore. You also have planets orbiting around you, but you remain whole. Comets of reverence, which make the eyes burst. An entire solar system, with your mystery at the core.

Basically, the moral of this late-night spurred metaphor: you matter. We all have our own difficulties and pain we deal with, but we are all natural pieces of art and absolute allure. We all have our own purpose and make up, together, one behemothic, habitual masterpiece.