He once thought he was a massive star, dwarfing the sun by thousand leagues, burning hot-ocean blue from a distant galaxy.
He would be flaring up every night, drawing the eyes of everyone that would look up at the sky.
He would be brighter than most of the other stars, glittering and enchanting until all his summer sky and blue turned into sunset and red, less bright but still beautiful like the lanterns and fireflies and the drifting leaves in the final days of October.
By this time, he knew that his time would come soon enough like it did for all those that came before him and like it will for everyone and everything else. Death is inevitable.
But death doesn't always mean that it's the end. It could be a start of something else entirely.
So, he imagined he would continue to ignite from within, from the remaining fuel of his core until it became heavier and denser yet hotter than when he glimmered the brightest,
until he ran out of gas and breath and once he poured everything that he was made of and succumbed to his final repose he would welcome it with a cataclysmic hug as he burst forth and collapse in a big explosion of hundreds and thousands blazing sun.
For a short moment, he would be the brightest as he spilled his guts into the cosmos, his essence, his soul, all of his unspoken words and abandoned feelings.
He once thought this thousand pieces of him would be flickering into the expanding universe until it found a new home, a new him.
He once thought it would go that way.
But it didn't.
He was never a massive star. He would never radiate blinding light or explode like stellar fireworks.
He turned out to be just a brown dwarf.
A failure of a star. His light almost never reaches anyone's eyes, even his own.
The time will come that even his faintest spark will be snuffed like a candle at the end of its wick but without a smoke and the darkness would simply consume him in.
He would be floating away into the distance. No one would hear him go. No one would see him go.
But, in his final glow, he was alone, but it didn't feel lonely.
It was cold, but there was calming warmth in his core.
It was quiet, but it was not a deafening silence.
It was comforting like the rain pattering on the forest floor or the waves caressing the shore.
It was peaceful. Somehow, that made him smile.
He might not have blasted into the grandest of supernova, scattering ashes of him in all of the stars and planets to see, like what he had always dreamed of.
And yet, with all the gaps and cracks and broken things he was made of throughout his life up until to this very moment, he was finally whole.