I once heard from someone.
"The shooting star doesn't fly in the sky, it rather falls"
Hearing that I thought, though it's a broken piece falling down, we wish upon it, we call it beauty.
I couldn't help but think of us, think of you.
Truly no broken, falling apart thing ever appeared ugly or not liked.
I wonder how a beautiful mess like us, like you, could be any different from a shooting star which provided me with things thing I wished for.
And i wish upon one every day when I see them-- you