Starry Night

Starry Night

Niala Jamison stared into the azure night sky from the rooftop. She had always loved the way the stars sparkled against the inky blackness. Whenever she looked into the inviting deep reds, pinks, and finally indigos and blacks of the starry night sky, it was one of the few times she felt lucky and…wanted. Not many people could see the beautiful white hotness of the stars in the city. Not that anyone would ever care about something like sunset anyway…or her for that matter. Sometimes she wished she could just fly into the sky and never come back. She bet that all the stars were all close friends; she wished she could fly into the sky so she could be friends with them too. Maybe then she would be wanted. It was a silly thought, she knew, but the feeling was something she’d never had. She’d never been wanted…by anyone. Not by her parents, not by anyone in school, not even by anyone at work. She hadn’t been what her “perfect” parents wanted, so they gave her away. They’d wanted a boy as she’d often been told when she was younger. She wasn’t even the type of girl her parents wanted either. If her parents absolutely had to have a girl they’d wanted her to be the all-american type (blonde, straight hair, blue eyes, skinny). What they got was Niala: a tall, average build, plain brunette with dull hazel eyes. The only thing she’d ever wanted in life was to be, well, wanted. She’d tried talking to people; she’d tried almost every day ever since she was a freshman in high school. People just brushed her off like she was unimportant. She was almost thirty and hadn’t really had much contact with anyone. No one had ever cared enough to listen to her or even say hello. It was no way to live. Sometimes, during the day, she would sit on the steps to her apartment building and just watch all the people pass by. She wondered if any of them would stop and actually care about what she said if she called out to them. If she was working during the day, she would love to get lost in magazines during her lunch break. She loved looking at all the clothing models. The wanted clothing models. She loved to daydream about what it would be like if she could be one of them. But she never could be.

“You are plain. You can’t and won’t amount to anything.” This was another thing her mother always told her before she gave her away. Still, it was nice to dream. She thought dreaming was the only thing that kept her sane sometimes. After work would end a couple hours after lunch, she would go home. Since it wouldn’t quite be sunset yet, she would sit in one of her favorite chairs by a window overlooking the serene, beautiful lake on which she lived. Then she would daydream again…this time about what heaven would be like (if it existed, she would think). She imagined it would be like the perfect summer. It would be the perfect temperature, butterflies flying all around and children, giggling, trying to catch them. She would go towards the lake and be welcomed by all the people swimming in it. She would feel wanted and find love for the first time. Of course, this was just a dream. A dream that was mixed in a blender of other days’ dreams, like a frozen drink that’s been sitting out too long. She only came out of her dreams when she saw that the sun was setting. She would go up on the roof to watch the sun set.
Then it would all begin again the next day. She would stare into her mirror, wonder what to wear from her meager closet of clothes, and go sit on the steps of her building, watching the people. She wondered the same thing again. Would any of them stop and actually care if she called out to them? She would recline on the cement steps and think some more. All I want is to be wanted… or even recognized. Is that such a tough task? she would wonder.

She got the courage to call out to someone one day…two someones actually. They only acknowledged her with the same cold stare she’d been getting all her life. Not a word of friendly greeting or even a smile. She wondered if she’d be waiting ‘til she was gray for someone who cared. At work, she tried to talk one of her co-workers, but she just brushed Niala off.

Niala sat on the step again the next day. She called out to another person, one that saw her every day and that she knew by face but not name, greeted him, and asked if he would like to talk. He hurried away, saying no, and gave her the usual cold stare. A thought came back to her, as her thoughts often did: I wonder if I’ll be waiting ‘til I’m gray for someone who cares.
As she watched the man hurry away towards the street, another thought came to her head: Yes, I guess I will. This depressing thought propelled her back to the mixture of daily daydreams that were kept on record in the back of her mind. Yes, dreaming was the only thing keeping her sane, she thought.
Before she knew it, the sun was ready to set again and Niala headed up to her rooftop spot. She gazed into her favorite inky azure blackness with its white, glittering studs and her dream came back to her. She wished she could fly into the night and meet the friendly, white-hot stars. Then, maybe she’d finally be wanted.


FYI: I got the idea for this story from the song “Who Cares?” by Ashley Parker Angel.