[ i: lunatic ]
sometimes, tears just well up into my eyes for no apparent reason.
.
.
.
there is always a dull ache that throbs with pain, throughout the entire day. it was the kind of hurt that is particularly annoying - not enough to complain, but enough to make you constantly aware of its unwelcome presence. sometimes, i am capable of throwing it to the back of my mind, but usually, it's just there: a reminder that i was irrevocably broken, just like a mirror that shattered into tiny, minuscule pieces.
i don't know why, but i start crying.
it was strange, to say the least. i didn't have anything to cry about, right? it was maybe - just maybe - loneliness. but i wasn't alone at all. i had my thoughts (monsters) for company.
i was alright.
even still, this... phenomenon usually the most prevalent when the moon rises.
-
tonight, the moon shines brighter than usual. vacant room in my memory. this lunatic night swallows me, please save me tonight.
-
when the moon rises, the monsters from my thoughts become agitated. it was as if... they weren't exactly 'my thoughts' anymore.
they begin muttering; softly at first, then increasing loudness until all that i could hear was the painful shrieking from my mind. it was a crescendo of the volume, and my misery.
because, within those mutters, i find words that i hate the most.
'disgusting', they would say, 'lazy, waste of space, why were you even born-' and as much as i didn't want to hear it, the chorus of screams never stopped.
sleeping was futile. escaping was in vain. there is no choice but to hear the cacophony of distorted voices rasping, wailing; grating on my ears as it created further dissonance in my already-conflicted self. i'm surprised that i'm still sane.
or perhaps i'm not.
as the moon sank back into the abyss, so would the voices. they would retreat, seemingly disappointed that i was still standing and happy at my tears, singing promises to haunt me another night.
i would dread those nights, and falling asleep became a fear - would the monsters visit me in my dreams? would i be roused awake by them in the middle of the night?
but these paranoia-driven thoughts would vanish before the moon as well.
i watch the moon rise to its zenith sometimes, slightly enraptured by its unearthly glow. and yet, it was this very entity that tortured me, cursing me to look at it for an eternity.
the word lunatic was used to describe a person who is driven insane by the changes of the moon.
maybe i am one.
