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.