The prettiest smiles hide the deepest secrets. The prettiest eyes have cried the most tears. And the kindest hearts have felt the most pain.

- Unknown -


Photo by Francesco Ungaro from Pexels


Evolve Yourself

This post originally appeared here on Write Under The Moon.

Teardrops In The Moonlight


Moonlight rays filtered in through the open window, awakening me from my cold sleep. The moon gleamed mysteriously through the foggy night.

I’m in the half-awake state, where my dreaming brain speaks about the world to come. I hugged the duvet a little tighter and rolled to the side so that I’m enclosed in warmth. My eyes shifted back towards the window and gazed at the moonlight and the shadows in the night sky as if responding to its call.

I breathe deeply as I laid still in bed. The all too familiar feeling washed over me like a flood. I was transported to a distant place. With my inner eyes, I focus upon the branches that swayed in the gentle wind. I could see clearly up ahead.

There’s a place, one so dense and dark where sunlight can’t reach. I wander alone, lost in this endless perilous night. I’m searching for what’s true, afraid I might never find it. Will my search ever end? A tinge of fear settled in my bones. My strength drained and my muscles are out of power. Does this mean I can never move forward? Will I ever dance again?

I tried to reach out, but there’s only a sense of longing. Unannounced, teardrops trickled down. Years upon years of holding it in. I thought I was happy. I believed I was happy. Until my eyes tell a different story, one of anger and pain hidden in some dark corner where nobody goes.

Should I hold back the tears? I ought to be ashamed. I must behave myself in the hardest hours of grief. Can I defeat darkness by running from it? Or pretending — just pretend, but never give in.

The tears begged to be released. They represent words too difficult to utter and too heavy for the heart to bear.

Drop the disguise! Let it fall, let it find freedom. Let it rain down upon the earth and water the seeds of future happiness. Weep, as if tears are cleansing.

Weep, as if the eyes need to empty themselves. It’s easier to shed those heavy droplets than to have to explain because words are never enough to bear the weight of sorrow. It won’t be adequate to wash away the fears.

No, I won’t cry. I’ll be fine. I’ll breathe in deeply and push it all down into my chest until there’s nothing left visible on the surface. No one should see them, for they are mine, exclusively. I’ll force a smile, even if it hurts. I’ll forget what I thought or how I feel.

Could I, should I, would I?

If you see my tears, would you gather each drop? Would you collect them all in jars and count them as precious? Perhaps even label them once they’re filled and store them on a far-away island.

As they leave my inner space and enter this world filled with death and horror, will you follow their path from my eyes down to my cheeks? Console my heart as you rewrite the stories I’m too afraid to utter.

At some point, I hope you would stop them with kisses and curb the flow. As you cradle my face to dry my eyes, please assure me it’s not always my fault. So that I know I’m not alone and the places I’ve been through are the ones that will lead me home.

Help me draw strength in sweet solitude of mind. And when the time is right, I may rise and shine again like a shooting star, before I fizzle out of sight.