And each day I was told it would get better. In worn shoes I would walk the long route to school, and dream of all the things I would do. Autumn leaves danced at my feet and the kids on sixteenth street shouted fall songs. I was a lonely kid with a journal and hopes for things my mother always told me I could achieve. I was told to do great things but I was told only the lucky ones make it far enough to see the stars lining up at their feet. I went home on cold nights and sat at my window in search of someone just as lonely as me and I found it in the sky shining down on me. The loneliest star once told me so, I could make it far and before I’d know, it would only get better from here.