Know who you are, be prepared for everything, drink every experience to it's extend and expand! It can be a bumpy ride, trust me, it's worth it DARLING." - Catherine Baba

I've always wanted a telescope.

When I was little and first learned about the constellations, I was fascinated. From then on I would love finding half of a constellation, cause that's all I could find. Always Orion's belt. Or his shoulders.

I loved watching the stars shine. To me, they had no purpose. There was nothing significant about. They lived until they died. They lived so much that the only respectable way to go was to explode.

Now when I look at stars, I think of that juxtaposition. How I saw them as a little girl and how I see them now.

Today, when I look out into the starry night, I see the future without seeing it at all. That I am in another place, at another time, looking at the same stars. Searching for Orion. Happy even if I can only see a part of him. But the point is that I'll be looking at it from another world, from a new life.

Everything will be alright. Everything will. Because I know that I will be free. Something will carry me away. Something will give me the life that I want, the life that's the complete opposite of what it is now. And that will make me happy. I know it won't keep me happy for the rest of my life, but for however long it is willing to last for me, I'll be happy. Sometime. Everything will be alright.

Maybe I'm wired to be a night owl for a reason. Everything is meant to be for a reason, isn't it? I need daily reminders that everything will be alright. Because recently I've been breaking down too frequently, easily forgetting, easily getting distracting, being led astray from hope. I think it's meant to be that at this time at night, when the breeze is gentle and the air is light, the stars are shining for me, telling me everything will be alright. I will see them in a new way, in a new light. One day.

Everything will be alright.

I wish life were but a dream. I wish dreams were justly life.

You could use the argument that art imitates life and therefore paintings are a reinterpretation of how an artist views art, views an instant, a fleeting moment in life.

Looking at Van Gogh's famous version of Starry Night for instance, the typical observer would prefer to envision its thesis that a beautiful night is a whirlwind of serenity, of a cool breeze in the countryside, the stars are twinkling at its best, not a care in the world could disturb its beauty: its purpose.

But for me, when I look at a painting, I don't think of it with the sole conclusion that my eyes are bearing witness to an artists' viewpoint. No. I am experiencing what life would or could look like.

Life would be better if it were in a painting. Yes it would be beautiful to look at, this new life, but it would be so much more magical. It would be like living in your favorite song. That's what it would feel like to me.

That's why looking at a painting, or even a photograph, is so much more than an educational observation.

Life would be better if it were in a painting. All your troubles wouldn't matter. Just like how it is from the outside looking in. You're only looking at it, following the brushstrokes across the plane, discovering its patterns, its deliberate venture of storytelling. But if you were in the painting, you could smell its beauty. Release yourself and drown in its immaculate conception.

Van Gogh's stars would be shining so bright they would captivate you into a lull, that false sense of safety, but in a Van Gogh it wouldn't be a lie. You would be soothed into serenity. You would always be safe and be kept protected. You would reside in one of his cottages downhill in the valley. His stars would shine for you. His wind would calm you. Just as the gusts look, that's how it would feel. It would dance on your skin. It would carry your troubles with it, never to be seen again.

Life would be better if it were in a painting.