A solitary figure stands under a moonlit sky, the gentle rustle of leaves and distant chirping of crickets the only sound. The figure gazes upward, lost in thought, speaking softly into the night.*

"Why does reality hurt so much? Why do the answers I seek feel so far away? How do people make love—true love—happen? How does someone rise above everything holding them down?"

They pause, their breath visible in the cold air.

"I have so many questions for the heavens. Does life only favor the rich? Or is it talent that shapes a person's worth? Is it for those who are gifted, born with some divine spark I can never claim? Or am I just... someone who doesn't need love—someone who was never meant to have it?"

Their voice falters, tinged with vulnerability. They turn their gaze downward, clasping their hands together as if searching for strength.

"Does it even matter, though? You… you are the one I've always looked up to. You are beauty itself—beauty I cannot even describe. A beauty I can't seem to find anywhere else. A beauty that gives me courage, even when I have none left for myself."

They let out a small, bitter laugh, shaking their head.

"But life… life doesn't stand by my side, and luck seems to shun me. Yet, I'll always try—try my utmost best, even though I know… I know you'll never see me the same way. You'll never do the same for me."

They fall silent, their silhouette framed by the moonlight. Their shoulders sag slightly, but their resolve lingers in the air, unspoken but palpable. The scene fades to black, leaving the whisper of their final words behind.

"And still… I'll keep trying."