The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?

by The Dreamer


“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

Jane and I found out what that meant just last night. It’s a soft, subtle whisper for “I love you.” And it’s so beautiful. These words keep coming back to haunt me, over and over. Haunt isn’t the correct word. This phrase, when repeated lyrically in my head, and rolled over my tongue again and again, sounds like a quiet lullaby, soothing me.

I haven’t been in contact with the world around me for a while. At most, I’ve been skyping Jane every night. I love our quiet night chats. Sometimes we don’t talk. We just keep each other company. But most of the time, we share beautiful stories, beautiful dreams, beautiful words, and I sometimes feel myself floating…floating…and suddenly I don’t feel like I’m there anymore. It’s nice to have someone understand and willing to hear my dreams and my most ridiculous and insignificant of thoughts. I’ve been writing again. It’s rusty, but it’s nice to feel the imagination tingling in me, rationality shutting down. Jane and Rachael are my only audience, and I’m content with that. These few days, despite the studying, I feel like my heads have been in the clouds and my feet are not on the ground. And I really like living like this. Softly, subtly, like a whisper. I am not there. I am not here. I am elsewhere, in an ethereal land far far away.

Spotify is a beautiful thing. It feeds me with beautiful tunes I never knew existed, and they are gorgeous tunes. Cantonese songs, especially. I have a playlist bursting with them. Often, their lyrics are the most touching, their melodies are the rawest and I could indulge in them over and over again.

I’m glad I deleted all of my social media platforms. I’m happier living elsewhere. It seems like elsewhere is my reality.

Before I sleep every night, I peer at the moon through my bedside window. The moonlight bathes me in a warm glow.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” I whisper internally.

Tell me about dreams, about the softness of your being, about your incoherent thoughts. I’m listening, I’m listening, I’m listening. Just don’t tell me about reality. I don’t need to be reminded of that.

Perhaps I am content living in my head again. It’s been awhile, but hi jean. How are you?

钧 x x

j e a n x x