I’ve been waiting for the moon. Still, when it peeks from behind the buildings, it almost comes as a surprise. The whole world is looking up. Somehow, I feel like the last person on earth.
I have missed so many moments. I have written so many things out of my memory – lost, never to be restored.
If time is fluid, I think I’m drowning.
I remember when we laid with our backs on the grass and the world was spinning. We placed bets on whether the blinking lights above were stars or planes or maybe it was the clouds that moved and the rest was stillness. You said you didn’t really know me. How much more could I give? We talked about loneliness and fears and made plans to leave this place. I thought I’d handed you my insides on a silver plate.
I remember the nights I spent in bed, shivering. How I’d think myself into oblivion, spiralling down, further and further, to the places where no one could reach me. That was years before.
Not much has changed. Thoughts of death slip into my brain as days blur into one another. They’re just a collection of empty moments, filled with waiting for the grand things to arrive at my doorstep. Well, bad news. This is it. This is life, the entire thing.
That night I stood under the moon and it watched me weep. The once-in-a-lifetime spectacle was playing out in front of me and I cursed my slow eyes for not being able to see.
I stayed out for what felt like hours, watched the moon disappear and come back out, looking like fire and blood. I almost wished for the flames to burn me, but I got too used to the heat. I almost wished for someone to come and be my saviour before the silence swallowed me.
The light slowly came back then. I should have been packing my bag and getting to sleep, but I couldn’t peel my eyes from the night. For a fraction of a moment, something felt different.
Who I was before, who I am and who I’ll be years from now, for a while all those distinct versions of me merge into one.
We all look up at the same sky.