So let me tell you why I was telling you about the blue stragglers.
The stars that which collided, formed a much more brighter one that grew to be more blindly and is even way impossible to reach and touch because if you do, you'd be at death's doorstep.
Worse, already thrown at the pit beyond death's door.
Lucas and I were like those stars. And our love for each other and for life with each other, was so bright and warm that whoever attempted to interfere with us will just end up dead, or at least, finding it hard to survive.
And maybe, I was bound to call our little one the blue straggler. He's supposed to be our light, our path to a new and happy life, a star that's supposed to make you feel that life is beautiful and perfect—even when truth is, it isn't.
But in the end, Lucas and I had no other choice but to call him the star that merged with a black hole in just a span of being born for almost nine months.
