Luna bled her wounds into the night, and the sky stitched them into stars-each one a glittering scar, a reminder that even the darkest hours could birth light. But no matter how heavy the moon hung, the sun always rose the next day.
This is her lunarium : a diary of falling and flying, of salty tears and streetlamp miracles. Some pages are ink-smudged with sorrow; others glow like dawn breaking over wet pavement. Some days, her pain was so loud it echoed in the cosmos, somedays were lighter as if her soul had refreshed. To be alive - to tread the line between chaos and serenity, to live through the starless nights awaiting the sunrise, to wish the starlight skies last longer. These are her stories, scribbled by ghosts in her skull and hung like stars in her private cosmos.
Here, pain turns to words. Here, the ordinary becomes a constellation.
[A Note Before You Begin:
This book explores many themes, some of which may be deeply triggering. Always check the chapter warnings, and honor what your heart can handle. Pause, skip, or step away as needed-your safety matters more than these pages.
The stories you'll read here are my midnight ghosts: the voice stuck in my throat for years, finally screaming onto the page. Not all chapters are dark-there is light here too-but even the hardest ones were written with purpose.
These words are raw, unpolished, and vulnerable-scars turned into sentences. I share them so that anyone who sees their own reflection in these pages knows: You are not alone in this ache. ]
All Rights Reserved