At first it was difficult to understand how easy it was for you to walk away.

I have always known you to be full of concern for all these numerous others - forlorn friends, abused strangers, innocent children, abandoned kittens.

You told me once of seeing a kitten crying by the street for its mother, and you weren’t sure if you should have picked it up or walked away.

I hated you once for your disregard for those who loved you, despite all other empathy.

But then I realized that you’re still struggling to love yourself first.

It took a while, but I eventually remembered the complexities of attraction.

Objects are attracted to more immense bodies in the emptiness of the vast vacuum of space. Satellites orbit planets, stars are specks of dust to distant universes. Asteroids and comets are similarly subjects to each respective pulls. 

Everything else drifts away elsewhere.

It would perhaps make sense that you considered all these abandoned beings more deserving of gravity than you do - you, still unsure of your place and stellar value in this universe. You who are still choosing between implosions or supernovas. You in constant search of space.

I dedicate this line to you; it’s from a TV series I’ve considered my compass for my own growth: “I pray for you … for you to find peace.” 

And thanks. You know who you are. I’ve said everything else, as have you. And I’m glad I got to tell you this in person first in its raw form before this light year distance of a dedication.