I shifted in my window seat and pressed my forehead to the glass.
I know she's out there somewhere... Somewhere I'm not. Somewhere far from me. I stare up at the bright orb in the sky and sighed. I want her back. I want her back in my arms, I want to see her smile, I want to hear her talk to me again... Just like we use to.
A tear fell down my cheek and I mumbled her name softly, closing my eyes.
A light that didn't belong to the moon shone on me. I opened my eyes and saw the light came from a window on the house across from mine. I blinked and I noticed a figure standing there. I strained my eyes and noticed that the person was my neighbor, and he was looking right at me.
He caught me looking at him and he shook his head at me. I flipped him off and he shut his blinds.
I sighed.
He thinks I'm insane– they all do. All my neighbors do that. I think they feel sorry for me. I do this every night. When the stars come out, I come out here to my window seat and just talk.
To who?
The moon. She always wanted to be an astronaut, so when I talk to the moon, I feel closer to her, someway. I just hope that every night, when I talk to the moon, that at least she's looking at it. I wonder if she talks, too? And if she does, is she talking to me? I hope she does talk, and it's directed at me.
I look back at the drawn blinds of my neighbor and sighed. Maybe I really am crazy. What if this is all in my head? There's nothing to tell me she even thinks about me. Maybe my neighbors are right. Maybe I am a lonely fool who talks to something that can't possible reply.
I leave my window seat and slip on my shoes. I walk outside and stuff my hands in my pockets. I look around me and walk down the sidewalk.
I hear giggles and whispering. I face towards it and see two girls jogging with their dogs.
They look at me and I hear them whisper, "He's the one that talks to the moon,"
"Yeah! I heard him scream a few times. Crazy mad-man."
I hate it. I see them every night and it's the same. I get so much attention! All I do is talk– sometimes I scream. Okay, maybe almost every night.
But because of that, I'm technically famous! And not in the good way. All I hear is "moon-talker" and "mad" and even "crazy".
I shook my head as they passed. I looked up at the sky and trudged to the closest tree. I leaned against the trunk and crossed my ears.
"Do you even hear me calling?" I screamed. "Every night I'm talking to the moon! All I want is just to get to you!" I cried.
I shook my head. All I do is hope. I hope she'll come back, I hope she'll answer, I hope she heard me, I hope she's at least talking back to me!
I sighed and spun around, slamming my fist into the hapless tree. "Every night!" I growled.
I sighed and fell to the damp ground, the grass tickling my bare legs.
"I am a fool," I muttered. "I'm a lonely, ignorant fool who wastes their every night talking to someone who doesn't even respond!"
I shook my head. "But I won't give up," I mumbled, lifting my head to the moon. "I know you're somewhere out there. Somewhere... Somewhere far away," Tears gathered in my eyes, "but I won't stop until your here– safe in my arms– once again."
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Based on Bruno Mars' Talking to The Moon
