Prose: The True Nature of Nostalgia

Looking up at the sky and thinking, 'It's still bright even after 7 PM,' I suddenly remembered the story about us being stardust.

Billions and billions of years ago.
A star ended its life and scattered into the universe. Then another, and another.

Billions of years after that.
The Earth was formed from the gathering of those stardust fragments.
Then, life was born, evolved, and became us.

That is why people are said to be stardust.

Some people like to dismiss this kind of story as just romanticism, but it is actually a story that aligns with current scientific theories. Astrophysics and cosmology.

(It is said that the carbon, oxygen, and many other elements that make up our bodies were born inside stars from the distant past.)

Stardust fragments that have continued a long journey through the universe are guided by gravity to meet and create stars once again.

When I think about that, I start to feel that perhaps people meeting other people isn't just a mere coincidence after all.

Have you ever met someone you felt you had met before, someone you felt you had known forever, or someone you just clicked with instantly?

I have a few people who come to mind.

The feeling of being drawn to someone is something that no matter how many words you string together, you can never fully express.

Deep down in the feeling of 'liking' someone, I wonder if the memory of those old, distant stars lies dormant as a core.

If we were to put that into our current words,
I wonder if we would call it love, affection, or a fated encounter.

Just a thought (*ˊᵕˋ*)

We are made of star-stuff.
Carl Sagan / Astronomer

'We are made of star-stuff.'

↓ This is something that was on TV a few years ago?
Take this kind of thing as just a bit of fun.

But it's quite an interesting story that everyone has their own way of writing it, isn't it? And when I try to write it in a different order than usual, I somehow can't write it well. It's strange.