Why does everyone love the moon?
She comes out in full swing at 12:07am
Glaring, glowing, gleaming, guiding me to my unknown destination.

"Crater face" whispers out of my mouth and into a chilly stale air. I think about the girl who sits at the back of the classroom. Silent and dead eyed.

Quiet conversations brewing all around her. Seeping into her ears pounding against the drums until she can't bear it anymore and the floodgates open and pour down her rosey scarred cheek bones.

So why does everyone love the moon so much? Craters as deep as oceans, the moons imperfections are the ones that make her beautiful. We love the moon because she is forever unobtainable and admired from a distance. She goes out every night full of confidence knowing although she isn't a star she is still the one who has the potential to shine as bright as she wants in a sky full of millions.

Meanwhile, I'm walking toward a stop sign where I pause to look up and all I can think about is the girl who's so perfectly imperfect that has the potential to outshine us all and how she remains facedown upon her desk, arms crossed over her hair. She hides from the day.

I call her luna.

I'm reminiscing back to events that took place three years ago. I'm spiraling downward just thinking about the way you managed to deceive me for so long.

I was 15. Young and naive and the way your devilish eyes looked down on me made me know there was no escaping your possession.

You fed me lie after lie and with every one I fell in a little deeper, constantly digging around for reason, further more burying myself in my own death bed. I lay mesmerized between cold sheets. My warm pulse clinging close to your icy dead skin, I trusted you...

A year later the soul that lived inside me so alive and well doesn't live there anymore. You shot that down with every insult you fired straight toward every ounce of self confidence I struggled to make for myself over the years. Shattering every piece of me one by one.

I was alone then. Left with a blurry vision in the mirror. Left with no clear conception of who I really was.

There were nights I wasn't sure I slept but I wasn't alive enough to know if I was awake either. The days past and the portions got smaller. My waist became smaller. My thoughts became larger and I became stronger.

There's no telling if I'll ever be the same again.