Space is – vast
Space is – the un-ending,
the entire universe,
the great expanse,
the entirety of creation… which is bigger than a person can even wrap their head around. Not only that, but…
Space is – expanding. It’s getting bigger? We’re getting further away from the aliens we haven’t even met yet. BECAUSE THEY ARE TOO FAR AWAY. Or maybe we have met, but WE don’t know. Not the entire royal WE, just the WE that in the illuminati.
SO –
Space is – eternally far away, yet eternity is getting farther awayer.
Space is – the final frontier

Space is – genuinely terrifying. We’re stuck on this giant rock that is ABSOLUTELY rotating INCREDIBLY FAST, and – DID YOU KNOW – we don’t just go around the sun in a nice circle… the sun is orbiting a giant black hole… and WE just kind of follow that in a spiral.
Space is – distressing, at the very least.
Space is – vast
Space is – beautiful… isn’t it? I mean when you get past the fear, you can see those dust clouds. Nebulas they’re called. Where stars are created. A star that has such gravity that it slams all the little rocks nearby into each other until they become planets.
Space is – the birthplace of life
Space is – the site of creation
Space is - where you look at the stars and God smiles back at you. Boasting, but not arrogance, just pride. A father proud of his creations. Where pieces fit together in a perfectly precise vastness.
Space is – breathtaking

I gather the pieces of glitter with a wooden spoon.
The confetti didn’t land in the right spots, so I have to place each particular piece or else no one will appreciate the beauty.

I place the specks along the decorations with precision… the only word my parents understand from my mouth.

Precision.

Precision.

The eldest child is incredibly familiar with precision.

It’s as if my parents assigned
every dream they wanted,
every prayer they didn’t get,
every day they have wasted…
to me…

I am to carry the weight of the family.
I am to earn the celebrations.

If my younger sister makes it a month without a car accident, confetti guns pop in every direction.
pop / pop / pop

I bake the cake, and I place the sprinkles… glittering and perfect…

Ok, not everything is horrible.
Because even when you’re so focused on how precise each piece of glitter needs to be, you’re still working with glitter.

I mean, it’s glitter! We love glitter!

It’s about the happiest horrible craft supply of all time! It gets everywhere, of course, we all talk about that…

But isn’t that a wonderful act of defiance that no matter how hard we try to be perfect… glitter’s gonna do her own thing… she’ll party wherever she feels like.

She’ll dance. She’ll sing.
She is precisely who she intends to be.
She’s gonna shine.

She’s gonna shine.
Glitter’s gonna shine.

And if this wooden spoon can hold confetti so precisely, then so can I.

The confetti doesn’t land in the right spots,
so I place each particular piece…
and maybe no one will appreciate the beauty.

Each glittery mirror reflects my face.
I can see myself.

She’s gonna shine.
Glitter’s gonna shine.

-"Danielle Fields"