Do you ever look up at the moon and think of the side that’s lies unseen; the side that is hidden beneath the other side’s shining glory? Have you ever wondered if maybe that side gets lonely? Maybe that side never finds a kindred spirit. It’s just the other side of a rock that is so beautiful, so famous, that it is known all over the world.
Maybe that side wants to shine through like the other. Perhaps it’s struggling; perhaps it wants to be the side that’s known.
Do not doubt me- I would know these things. How? I am the other side of the moon. I represent the dark side of each of us- the side that goes unseen. My sister, Luna, shines like a spotlight, filling the world with hope. I sit in the background. I am the side no one ever sees. I am the side that doubts and cries and never dares to hope. I am the side that everyone has, but no one knows.
My sister Luna tells me stories. She tells me of the beauty in the world, hoping that it will overthrow my darkness. It is a worthless task. This is how I am. This is what I represent.
Luna told me a story one night. She told me about a little girl who pulled a wagon filled with toys to a field every day. Luna would watch her pull that wagon at seven every morning until the girl was not a girl anymore; until the girl grew old and her face was filled with wrinkles. One day, the girl’s neighbor asked her why she had never moved. She said, “I can’t leave my brother.”
The man looked puzzled and told her slowly that she had never had a brother. She sighed as if frustrated. “I have no brother anymore,” she curtly replied. “But that does not mean I never did.”
And then she left with her wagon. The man followed her. He was confused when she pulled into a field that was overflowing with grass and weeds. Carefully, the girl who was a girl no more sat down on a rock and placed the toys from her wagon onto the grass. She pushed a stray strand of gray hair behind her ear and began to talk. “Brother, today I went to the store. The lady who totaled my purchase told me the funniest story. I think you would have like her…”
And so the girl went on. The man sighed and turned away.
As Luna told me this story, I began to think. I am who I am- I think what I do. But just because I think there’s no love doesn’t mean that love doesn’t exist. And so my quest to feel love began. Every day I would ask Luna what she saw. Luna never slept. She was always watching.
She would tell me stories of young lovers, families full of hope, and tragic stories with happy endings. These stories fascinated me. Love fascinated me. It was something that I was destined to never feel. That made me angry. But I was glad to feel something.
From this day on, when you look up at the moon, realize that the man in the moon is not a man at all. Think of my sister Luna, for she is up there, and she is telling me a love story right at this very moment. Think of me- for I am listening, forever reaching for something I can never have.
