I sit down and think of all the people in my life: nothing but shining stars. They make not only their lives but also of others shine bright. Then I look at me, I am much like a moon: I shine when I reflect at what they do. I fall into darkness when I am left all to myself.

I want to be a star: lit from within. But from what I hear, it comes at the cost of burning to the extent of falling apart. I think it doesn’t hurt the star to pay the price for everyone’s admiration or love of a star is enough to bear with the pain. It was born this way.

If I follow them, I can reflect that light until I fall into an eclipse. Eclipse is the hardest thing I have to deal with. It means I get darkness when I try too much to shine. When I don’t leave the path of stars even when I should.

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I am a moon aiming for the stars. But I don’t want to be one when a calamity hits me. It hits me that I am yet even not as forbearing as these stars. But I was born this way.

Sometimes, I wish the sun wasn’t sun. I get jealous when the earth revolves around it and I revolve around the earth. Sun has so much revolving around it. Sun is always the centre. I wish I were not so far down in the hierarchy. I wish to be the sun.

In my meagre life, it is hard to wrap my head around the fact that the sun gets attention because it actually gave up all of it’s light. Giving up light, it gained light. I am a moon, I can’t give up light for I don’t think I will get that back in return.

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I love earth. I want it to not love the sun. I want it’s days and nights to revolve around me and not the sun. But I can’t make it yield to me like it yields to the sun. I can’t make it yield to me like it yields to the sky.

I am moon, the moon so often praised yet so often neglected when talking of the greater good. I am the moon: broken smaller piece of the sun. I am the moon: waiting for the night when I can raise tides on the cold unyielding earth. Or may be, I am just a moon forever in eclipse: loving and never receiving love in return.

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