A planet in orbit of the sun has lost her sense of time and space. She circles in repetitive contentment around the one that gives her life, that nurtures and feeds her addiction. There is nothing unpleasant about her existence and yet a lingering feeling persists.
"Is this what existence is meant to be like?" She bickers about her own little traits. Finds a bellowing new beginning. No fear, just pleasure and taking in the sights. An unimaginable
amount of time has passed since the planet has looked left or right. She cannot change her course, so she was told. But what she can do is enjoy the ride.
Starting today, the planet wiggles and plots. She curls her tail and shows the sun her bottom. The sun, at first, does not take note of the little planet's escapades. She has known her all her life and this appears a mere misguidance. A temporary glitch and something to amuse the sun.
Since the beginning she has been the only one to witness the planet's course. There are no other planets in her vicinity. So the little planet goes about her business day after day. Finding new ways to curl and wiggle.
After a while the sun gets concerned. Should she tell her that she can veer off course? Others have prodded and tested their orbit, and look what happened to them!
The sun still contemplates how to approach the little planet in gentle manner when suddenly a second planet rolls into orbit. Bigger in size and clearly dealing with opposing forces.
At first, the little planet, whose orbit unquestioningly has been intruded upon, does not take note of the newcomer. She is way too occupied with bouncing off her tracks. She discovered it makes the rims of her orbit sparkle. She did not know it could do that!
Such pretty sparkly bits come off and fill the space around the planet. Under normal circumstances the sun would have uttered a warning by now: "It is the first indication of orbit-expulsion." But the sun is far too busy eyeing the newcomer.
Thick-skinned and grim, with melancholic curves and a bristly surface. The sun frowns - planets like these are by far the most loyal yet also the most challenging ones to handle. Orbits bore them after a while, although the sun suspects: "It is not so much boredom than it is the desire to break out of their surface." Only they can't, no planet can, which is why they break orbit.
The newcomer sees the smaller planet first. At that moment his gentleness shines through every orifice. A constant trait he cannot hide, kindness at his core. A burning, all-consuming core, violently scabbed over.
Later he will succumb to his depression and attempt to derail the circling of this orbit. But for now it is only the connection to another that he seeks.
When the smaller planet stops wiggling she notices him, too. "What an odd looking thing," she thinks: "do I look like that, too?" The sun nods imperceptibly: "Yes, only smaller."
The small planet is immediately drawn to the newcomer and she has no intent or purpose of hiding her emotions. She turns into her best profile and floats in his vicinity, as casually as a planet can float.
For quite some time this is all they do. They float in the warmth of the sun. The warmth of the other. Keep their attraction at bay, curiously inching toward each other every other lap.
It does not take long for the small planet to notice an area as dark as the moon's fears on the newcomer's surface. She has heard about this, maybe even has one of her own.
The sun would not tell her though, for the little planet would be worried. And the sun, for the most part, is a kind queen. But the newcomer's darkness cannot be ignored. He confirms that he is aware of it, that he has often tried to rid himself of it.
Throwing yourself out of orbit can scrape the scabs off darkness. Smooth the skin for a while. "But the core," he fears: "It remains blistered." The small planet asks him if she has this, too. He finds her question odd, does not respond. He considers this affliction his very own and no one else's.
Continue reading: Two planets collide - part two