Come Bath Me In Your Moonlight

It is midnight and I compulsively slide open my phone to see if I’d missed out on any notifications. The screen reflects brightly against my irises, echoing an empty mass of hollow.

Multiple drafts lay raw and untouched, hidden and forgotten as time passes by. I compile it into one but the union feels foreign when I spread them across my palms. I can see the full picture but the puzzles just don’t seem to fit.

My heart beats hard against my chest. Anxiety and sleep never gelled well. I attempt to compose my thoughts and focus on the breathing. It is hard because my mind my body and my soul are not in sync and I wish there was a way to make things better.

A gnawing feeling grows within me. It aches but does not hurt. It is as if my soul is shouting, begging for release. Yet, not a sound escapes. It is trapped within the bars of my ribs, destined to be locked up for all eternity.

I wish there was a way to say ‘I love you’ without sounding like you’re too needy. And I wish there was a way to say ‘I miss you’ without wishing to hear the same words back.

People make me unhappy so I shun away from them but humans are social creatures and so I wake up still unhappy. I am baffled because everything makes me excitable yet nothing makes me excited and I struggle to strike a balance between the two. It is like playing a round of tennis but the opponent is your self. And when two selves pit against the other you wind up on the losing end.

Maybe this is just a transitional period. However, at this moment I feel far from who I am. The me right now is different from whom I was yesterday, and the day before, and etc. And it is puzzling because the mirror reflects the face of a stranger yet there is no denying that she is indeed me.

It is a sensitive period as every slight disagreement feels like a major episode. The emotional wave of uncertainty punctuates the air and hangs dreadfully. I am worn out by my emotions.

Perhaps the only solution out of this is to embrace the strange rawness and imperfection of the human experience. It is quite possibly what makes a moment so beautiful – all the beauty amidst the madness. I must remember to strike a match in moments of darkness.


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