Ask the Moon for Answers.

At some point you just have to admit you’re lost, sit down and ask for help.

Am I living in denial or am I believing in myself? Is there a difference.

Hello. My world feels like chaos yet my life is still, motionless even. It’s an internal chaos, too much energy being directed nowhere. Nothing seems to fully fill the void and I should stop pretending otherwise. Maybe, instead of resisting the emptiness I should fall into it, see how empty I really am. But that’s giving in, right? That’s fully embracing the depression, right? Or maybe there’s something on the other side of it and I have to go through it to find out. How do I know? Who do I have in my life to tell me? There’s no one, there’s really no one. Just me, and the moon, and all the saints surrounding her.

My life isn’t moving forward. I’m stood in the mud, staring up at the moon, wishing. What do I do?

Fall.

There’s a lighthouse in the near distance, just across the grey stony sand, on a little craggy rock. Its lights flash across the water. Its red and white striped body stands against the night.

I’ve found a little cottage by the water. I take some time to quietly bathe in it, in the pebbled beach, the slick green ocean water of rejected seaweed.

The cottage is small, but homey, full of paintbrushes and inks, dyes of every colour. There’s an easel under the window, a sofa near to that. A small kitchen to my left, a bedroom with a comfortable double bed, a window above it.

“We can be safe here.” Luna says, “We can rest.”

She puts a big white bow in her hair, it reminds me of Minnie Mouse and it comforts me.

We’re safe here. We can rest. Do you believe any of this to be true?