In this spoken‑word monologue, the speaker likens themselves to a star whose gravity holds onto the past while the present hurts. They describe the crushing weight of caring for others—watching “glasses hit the floor,” feeling unable to “impact their perception” and “deliver their prescription.” The narrative spirals into an admission of “overdosing on worry,” describing anxiety as a liver that can no longer filter it, and an addiction to fixing broken systems. Using celestial metaphors, the speaker warns against letting love’s gravity fade, urging listeners not to abandon their role as the sun of someone’s solar system. The piece interweaves spiritual reassurance—affirming that each person is created by God, not a cancer, and is a “superstar”—with a compassionate plea that suicide is never an answer. It balances the tension between surviving and thriving, encouraging self‑worth, perseverance, and the release of the compulsive need to rescue others.
