She had gone out again last night and I had followed her, watched her. I learned from watching her that we were very alike. She was lonely around the people she chose to surround herself with

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She had gone out again last night and I had followed her, watched her. I learned from watching her that we were very alike. She was lonely around the people she chose to surround herself with; while I was lonely around the people that I did not choose to surround myself with. I suppose some nights her kind of loneliness consumed her to the point where she needed to be alone with someone else; me. Those were the nights she spent at her own home, alone, at the edge of her bed staring up at me; her eyes telling me of the galaxies within her.

I would follow her most nights, shine upon her as she would spend her nights at different houses with different people. These nights were made up of conversing with these people on various subjects and then getting cut off in a frantic haze of changing conversation subjects. I would watch her try to re-enter one of the groups, one of the constellations of people but to no avail. I felt a deep connection to this. How can she be so alone, so isolated, people see her but never know her life, her cycles, her being. This inability to find someone in our world’s that we could truly speak to about ourselves connected us. She would repeat this most nights trying to get a different outcome, hoping she could find someone she could confide in as she does me, these attempts only fuelling the loneliness inside her.

But there were some nights when she could not try anymore, those nights I would watch her return to her own home and spend the night alone. These were her nights she spent sitting at the edge of her bed in the dark staring back at me, enveloped in my rays of light, crumpling over occasionally to cry. I found this fascinating; I have never known that kind of release of emotion. I even envied this release of emotion, she was able to let go of all that was deep inside her like I have never been able to, it is an eternity of welling emotion with no release for me.

When she looked at me there was something in her eyes that I could not place, desperation or vulnerability, possibly. Her eyes spoke volumes of the things within her that she could not quite convey with words to any of the people she surrounded herself with. The people who surrounded her either ignored it or did not see it. But it was I that she confided these thoughts and feelings deep inside her that she could tell no one else on those nights she spent alone with me.

The people that surround me are my family as well as being my friends, I suppose. They have surrounded me for longer than I can remember. Maybe this is why I feel that I must hide how I truly feel from them since I do not want to worry my galactic brethren. I have watched many humans be born, live and die, but it is the type of person that she was; the overlooked, that I feel a true connection to. Why do these humans like her live their lives shining but not seen. I mean really not seen? Could the isolation they feel, that she feels, her being alone be our connection? I shine and everyone sees and no one knows. They think they know, but they see the cycle, they interpret how I look, whether I’m a crescent shrouded in shadow, or fully lit in the night, they still don’t see. They do not connect to my white beautiful aloofness, to what I am truly trying to say to them.

I do believe that our unseen shining is what tethers us to one another. We both know the feeling of being overlooked, of always being there, but ignored. We were consistent presences in both our worlds’ and people accepted us always being there but never chose to look beyond that. This was the way that people would look up at me; in admiration of my beauty on the night of a blue moon or to coldly collect facts for scientific reasons but again never see much farther than what was immediately revealed to them at face value. By doing this they treat me as coldly as the galaxies that surround me. For her people would look at her and speak with her but they never asked the right questions to really understand her or maybe they did not care to. This is why we connected with each other in our loneliness that came from not truly being seen for who we were. We felt exactly the same, the overlooked and always there, this was the role we played in our worlds.

When our relationship first began I didn’t know what to make of her. She would watch me with such intensity; it was strange having my role reversed with another person. The consistency of me watching her and she watching me back was comforting to both of us. There was also a certain comfort to our dance, just as it was my cycle to wax and wane, always to be there in our cycle of loneliness.

On the night of the harvest moon the loneliness consumed her. Even my company couldn’t compensate for the void of a true connection. She no longer needed me as her confidant. That was the night the volumes of emotions that spilled from her eyes ceased and her skin grew cold, and my rays lit her room, and she was free from her loneliness forever.

Maybe we weren’t as alike as I thought. She was able to know death’s release and the finite sensation of mortality, yet I would stay up here surrounded, seen by all yet never being able to tell a soul how I truly feel, without the ability to release my emotions and all alone for all eternity.

Word Count: 1002

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