You are made of stars

I am most definitely made of failure.

I’m in college - what, am I 20? A junior. My English professor calls me over to him after class. What is this? he says, holding up my paper. This is the same paper you turned in last week. You were supposed to hand in a revision. I can’t give this a passing grade.

My sister sent me a long text the other week. This is now, 2020, I am what? 27? Jesus. She said, in an anguished paragragh of text: Our relationship is a one-way street. I need to focus on the healthy relationships in my life.

In the psych ward later that week, I slept for two days straight. I paid $2,000 for that sleep.

But in the psych ward, on some hopeless bulletin board, I saw an image. It said, you are made of stars.

I am most definitely made of failure.

But this was suggesting I am made of stardust, trying to find my way back to the stars.

Is that what I am made of? Can I be both?

Can I say - yes?