{cradled by the silvery moon}

Boy has it been a rough week. I'm sure we all go through those, where certain events just seem to tip us upside down and shake us, from everything that made us secure, sure, and ready to leap.

I've discovered a vulnerability I never thought I had. I've lived my life so far sheltering others, living for them and their hopes, dying to my own. What I didn't understand was just how fragile I actually was. How hard standing up for myself can be, and how sick you can make yourself from blowing it big time.

The written word is one of the most powerful mediums of the human race. Letters, correspondance, texts, things that aren't easily forgotten or burned, yet can be burned unto your memory. I've never been one to hold a grudge or become bitter, yet there are certain things in my life that can occur that set off earlier events that I truly wished to forget. Things I wish that my heart rejected from becoming a piece of its layer. I learned from those events and grew tremendously from experiencing them. There are just some things I don't think I will ever be able to erase and I don't know if that is normal or if that is a safety mechanism.

So I've done alot of thinking. Alot of time spent with wide awake eyes as I ponder and watch the moon drift from one side of the sky to the other. It can be lonely, and cold, and limitless in the void that it travels. Yet, I find such comfort in the hope that if I can imagine just for a moment being cradled in its warm glowing heart I can drift off again, peacefully, while a trillion stars sing sweet songs, very softly around me. Is it too much to hope? I hope I can swallow again without choking and smile without hurting, and sing without remembering. I have hope. Because I've come through it before. But I think to get through it, I will find comfort in remaining silent, encased in a warm, glowing embery heart of the silvery moon.