I often imagine that the moon, the owls and the darkness of the night might be my closest friends, they are my trusted companions through the few highs and the many lows. They comfort me when it's 3am and the rest of the world seems like they are sleeping soundly.

They’ve been witness to my tears and plees for this to all stop and comforted me when the four walls of this bedroom felt like a cage. The moon seems so distant yet its warmth kisses my cheek. Someday I might be able to force my body to ignore the protection of the darkness and live in the light of the sun. But I am manufactured to die slowly to the darkness and this body is like an incomplete metaphor for the disease that lives in my head without paying rent eating up all the light.