Don’t lie. You know exactly the heartache of your life. That primitive sadness you feel around the things you wanted to do but didn’t, or the things that to the core of your being you felt desperately needed to go one way, and they went the other. That horrible rendering of your heart when your dog dies, when your wife leaves, you lose your job, lose your house. Those girls or boys you lost or never had “You know I dreamed about you, twenty-nine years before I saw you.” (The National – Slow Show). That sobbing moment sitting drunk on a boulder behind your house tasting that slick film of snot that covers your upper lip and you balling without control and cradling your warm beer in your cold hand while watching the slow endless show of stars that swim on ancient trajectories through the nighttime sky. You know you will never touch that grand beauty. You know you will never, ever, ever, be something so inconceivable. That moment that you know you are nothing. That’s something you won’t forget. And sadly the moments you missed in the past are gone forever. You cannot turn back time, and if you could what would it matter? I don’t need to state the answer.
If you are a star, you are one too small to use. This is the human condition, and no matter how you spin it, we’re fucked.