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Every night. Every night that the constellation Lacerta centered the ceiling amongst other stars, that is. It’s funny, the way stars work; the whole world in fact. Some nights, it’s hard to believe that there are some stars bellow us. Stars we can’teven see. But it was the constellation Lacerta, Lacerta, stuck in my mind.

A fairly small constellation, Lacerta isn’t noticeable by any means. Most who read this won’t even know what it is. I find very few people who ever actually look up. Some, I wonder, if they have ever took the time to look at our sky. If only we were all a bit more aware, if only we were more attuned to our realities, we would have known. If only I had known the severity of mine.

At first, it always felt like a memory. At the very back of my mind, a tiny spark existed, much like Lacerta. I didn’t even know if it was real or not, and really, how could I?

I would describe the feeling as a dream. Foggy, I would always wake up at night. I couldn’t move, just stared. Just staring blankly at the walls of my room. Every detail shone silvery: my posters, my bookshelf, my computer screen. The hollow blackness of my screen provided a stark contrast to the light of the moon. It reflected everything. I can just vaguely interpret my own bed. But a piece, just thatvery small piece, saw something else. Something that I don’t fully understand, but caused me much distress. My throat began to close up. I tried to swallow, but had no saliva, and quite frankly, I was too afraid to move. In the void of my computer screen, I made out slight, willowy figures. I wasn’t going to move my eyes, I didn’t want to. I just stayed like that for god knows how long. I can’t and won’t move. I can’t close my eyes, I should have never woken up. Why did I wake up?

This happened. This happened every night that Lacerta, small Lacerta watched me from the very highest point of the stellar sphere surrounding us.

I can’t remember anything else. The following weeks, I made many trips to the hospital. The doctor diagnosed me with multiple sclerosis and a severe case of insomnia. Whatever was happening, that small fragment of a memory or dream, I know it was hurting me. Whatever I saw, or rather didn’t see, was hurting me. I have no way to prove this; I just sit under the sky on cool nights, just staring. Tonight’s felt familiar. My heart skips a beat. Lacerta is looking down on me

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