As a child, I used to look at the moon and wish you good night. Taking comfort that somewhere, those same beams reached you.

“Good night, my someone,” I would say. “I look forward to knowing you… someday.”

I wasn’t sure what you’d look like, smell like, or even what kind of person you’d be… So, as I grew up, I got confused and thought a few people were you. But alas! They were not.

The one who would love me forever, wholly, unequivocally, wherever are you?  This lonely puzzle cannot make sense of the world without her missing piece.

A lot of years have gone by now, and… I don’t think you’re coming. It’s a shame because I know you would have been perfect. You would have made me perfect. All my flaws would have vanished under your love.

Who was I talking to under the moon? A fantasy? Perhaps. Or maybe I was talking to the hole in my chest. Expecting it to manifest into someone who would complete me. Someone who I wouldn’t be a burden for, but who would raise me up to the sky!

Someone was listening though, the quiet observer, also longing to be remembered, to be loved. As I pinned after the projection of my loneliness, my soul was wondering when I would close my eyes in silence and shine that love inward. Filling that hole with wholeness.

As I finish writing and close my laptop, words invade my head:

Sweet child, there is nowhere to look, I am here! 

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