Did you know I have a tattoo of the sun behind my left ear? I got the tattoo when I was eighteen and madly in love with the sun. I remember that my obsession with the sun started when I was young. I even remember going on and on about it to my friend in high school.
We were sitting in the school parking lot in front of the softball field, and I was staring at the sun through my windshield. I told him how lucky we were that she comes up and brings us light every day… something many of us take for granted. He laughed it off, thinking I was just saying some random mumbo jumbo.
To this day, I still believe in the sun and blow a kiss into the clouds every morning, but somehow, over the years, I’ve started to truly admire the moon. The light when all is dark. It’s so peaceful and quiet, like the judgment of the world has been wisped away by the wind.
Sometimes I’ll go sit out on my balcony, look up, and talk to the moon. And sometimes, she talks back. I tell her about my life—the happy parts and the god-awful parts that scare me. I sit and stare, hoping that I’ll get answers to questions I’m so desperate for.
I remember when I was going through one of the most dreadful breakups of my life, I found comfort in the moon, asking her to bring him back. My ex and I would rekindle every once in a while, and he’d tell me about how he’d talk to the moon too, asking if I was okay. In moments like that, it made the world feel much more intertwined than I could have imagined.
Lately, she hasn’t talked back, and I fear that I am strongly disconnected. I miss her, but then again, the moon only shines because the sun is behind her. Maybe it’s time for me to go back to being the sun.
You can’t stay in darkness forever.