I dread the darkness. I can't stand the company of something that understands me so well. It makes me vulnerable, lets my mind wander all the places it managed to avoid during the day. Who have I disappointed? Where am I going in life? Have I been a good friend? What would happen if I got cancer? How would I handle a tsunami? The world stops but my mind is just getting started.
I fear the moon, for it relies on the sun, what am I relying on? I don't want to just be a reflection of something else; I want to be my own light. I want to be a star, I want to burn bright and not go dim. I don't want to be warm, like, maybe, sure, gray, dim. I want to be everything or nothing at all. I want to be more than myself. I want to be more than anyone has ever thought possible, including myself.
I don't want to be another sad story. I don't want to be a news story, an empty chair, a blank piece of paper, a dusty ring, a closed door, an orange bottle, a cold meal, a cancelled plan, an embarrassment
I want to be more than my nightmares, my panic, my sadness, my unfinished poems, my thoughts that scare me, my unanswered messages, my abandoned dreams, my prescriptions, my failed grades, my unattended RSVPs. I need to.
At night my brain goes where it wants, ready and vulnerable. At night it gets worse than I thought it could.
The next day always comes.
YOU ARE READING
No Longer The Moon: A collection of writings from the month of October
Não FicçãoSome days I write because I have to, and I have had many of those days lately. These a collection of thoughts, writings, and poems that I have thus have and will add to.
