Crescent

Prabh Chhokar

“I am not my past. I am not my future. I am now. I am present. I am here. But, I cannot speak the same for my mind “

2:53 am.

I sat beside the long window, falling to the floor and touching the ends of the wall. Past it, the image of the moon had never been so prominent. The window brushed the ends of the deep, blue sea, shining with the light of the lamp heads that stood attached to the far away shore. My eyes left the body of water and instead went to the shining gray moon, to the craters that held a sullen sadness. I smiled. Lilly would always tell me a story, one that I would plead to listen to every single night. It was about a world long ago, one where the sun and the moon lived together, one where there was no morning and no night. Only the evening, painting an image of their love. But then came humans. We were selfish. We needed the warmth of the sun and the cool breeze of the night. So, we forced them apart, leaving them weeping for eternity. Now, every day they meet for a passing moment in the evening, then go back to their forced roles again and again and again. I could never see the sadness in the moon before. Never. Not until I knew that story. Now, I could see the depthless craters and the days where it’s swallowed by the dark. If you looked close enough, you could see the light it wept onto the earth. The light in the ocean, moving with such intense, calculated moves every time the water rippled. Like a dance portraying its story. Ever since the first night I heard that story, I sit by the window and share my sadness with the moon, hoping to lighten its heart. Today I had something special, something I hadn’t told anyone yet. My lips stretched into a wide grin, staring at the bright orb of light with happiness. “Today, for the first time, I told myself it was okay to eat. And I ate an entire meal without feeling guilty. It felt good; to not worry about my body all the time. I’ve been happy the entire day, kind of like you. The dark hasn’t covered you at all today, you look so beautiful!” I exclaimed, half expecting an answer, fully knowing that I would get no response. Not because the world believes that the moon can’t talk but because today, the moon is tired. As much as I tell Lilly that the moon talks, no one believes me. It can talk because it listens. Sometimes, I imagine that me and the moon are sitting at a café somewhere, drinking coffee while I’m talking, and the moon is listening quietly.  Sometimes, all I really want is for someone to listen and not give me advice. All I want is “I’m listening, go on.” And that is the biggest gift the moon has granted me. A deep sigh escaped my mouth, accompanied by a yawn and I took that as a hint to finally go to sleep. My eyelids grew heavy as I said goodbye to the moon, brushed my teeth, wore my night suit, made my bed, and finally went to sleep. 

12:13 am, days later.

My hands wrapped around the half empty bottle of pills, a loud rattling sound emitting because of my shaky hands. The word breathing didn’t make sense to me anymore. My heart beat against my ribcage, refusing to let it out of its cage. Lungs full of anything but air struggled to keep me alive and my throat burned with the amount of times I had let out gasps. Tears, a small representation of what I felt inside fell down my cheeks and followed their own path. Some went under my shirt and some died on my cheek. I sympathized with those that could not go further for like me, they could not find a purpose in life any longer. Like me, they were so tired. Opening the bottle, I ignored the pleading look the moon was giving me. Instead, I spoke. I spoke for me. I spoke for the moon. And I spoke for the world. “ Thank you, thank you so much.” I didn’t dare stutter. Though my body had broke out in sweat and my mind could no longer fathom what life was, I did not stutter. For if I did, the importance of my last words would be put to shame. “Since I was a little girl, you have done nothing but be there for me. You have gifted my thoughts silence and my mind, happiness. And though I cannot see you today, I wanted you to know that I love you. I love you for being the moon, for teaching me that light can pierce through any darkness.” A serene silence filtered through my mind as I stared at her. “You have helped me in ways I cannot begin to describe but when the dark has become too dark, even the brightest light cannot help it.” Looking down at the bottle of pills, my tears landing on the cap, I tilted my head and swallowed the rest of the pills down my throat, stuffing them forcefully, pretending that the gags I heard were not my own. Eyes growing heavy and my mind clear of thoughts, I let the bottle fall from my hands, closing my eyes and leaning my head against the clear glass once again. 

An hour passed, then another, then three more and the young girl who had found friendship with the moon did not say goodbye for the night, she didn’t brush her teeth, wear her night suit, make her bed, then finally go to sleep. She just sat still, simply there and there not. Finally, after an eternity of no words, the moon broke her vow of silence and wept. Why you ask? Because for once in a lifetime of being alone, she had found someone that loved her too. And now, that someone was gone. The moon was left alone all over again.

Years later, from the moon

Often, the moon stared at the stars in the sky, knowing that the young girl had now become one of them. Regret often clouded her judgement and filled her mind with doubt. For months she wondered why the girl left. She could not understand a simple reason until one day, the moon finally understood. The young girl could not let go. She was so immersed in her past, she couldn’t see her future. Every day, she fought a battle with her past self until she couldn’t take it anymore. Until she could not even tolerate living in the present anymore.

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Prabh Chhokar lives in Canada with her two siblings and parents. She enjoys reading lots of books and loves writing her own stories too. She hopes to better her writing and flourish in her hobby in the future. Along with reading and writing, she loves to bake, watch television, and talk about marvel cinematic universe theories.