With a chair on the dock, I stare at the stars. By this time, the fire on the beach is beginning to die out and the mosquitos are taking over. My thoughts are elsewhere though. The night stars twinkle so bright they reflect of the glassy water. Out here the light pollution is basically nonexsistant and any city noise is gone. All that can be seen are the darkness, the moon, and the stars and all that can be heard are the bull frogs and the night breeze. Usually when I look up, I am drawing out the constellations I know and focusing on planets I see. Tonight is different though. Tonight I think about how much I am like Cassiopeia. She made a bad mistake and the gods punished her by puting her in the sky where she couldnt pass the horizon. She can’t touch the horizon. I am Cassiopeia. I made a mistake, now I am never going to be able to see you or touch you again.