The Moon Will Tell You What to Do (English)
Autor: Laila Brillinger | Publicado: 2012-07-05T06:38:00-07:00





Night has
fallen and I'm surrounded by the smoke of the cigarette between my fingers.
Look, there's a full moon up in the sky! It illuminates the whole park with its
stunning light, giving the teenagers in their night walks a false sense of
security. I can feel a soft breeze, so soft it doesn't even have the strength
to move the empty swings between the child's slides. I can also smell the scent
of marijuana which is being smoked by those teenagers and I can hear their
voices which seem to be a little altered due to the alcohol I am sure they’re
drinking. Their souls are so young and so untouched by the tragedies of live
(is it just me or tonight’s atmosphere is a little melancholic?)

My thoughts
slip to you, my dear. I believe none of those adolescents who are lost in their
reckless youth have ever felt how bitter it tastes to lose someone. Also, I am sure
none of them has ever loved someone as I loved you. As I still love you.

The moon
looks breathtaking, my love. Tonight's sight created by the park and the moon
together would probably turn out to be one of your favourites. I am aware of
how much you appreciated the night. I admit I had always found it hard to
understand your obsession with it, but now as I observed the trees which were
illuminated by the white shine of the moon, I finally understand. The moon is
smiling at me just like I know she would smile at you. She blinks at me and
enlightens the park and creates such wonderful landscapes every night. This
sight could only be more beautiful, my love, if you were here.

I ask you
to forgive me, but everything reminds me of you. A pretty sight, the scent of
vanilla, exhaling the smoke of a cigarette, Rock 'n' Roll songs of the 60's, a
cup of coffee or tea, the smell of old books... it is an unending list. Whether
it was your yearning or not, you have left pieces of you in me, in the world,
even after you were gone. 

One
cigarette gone, another one to go. "I smoke to die", I once heard
that sentence coming from a beautiful mouth. I believe it wasn't you who said
it, although I was intimately sure you did have this thought in your mind when
smoking cigarette after cigarette on a daily basis.

The moon
keeps coming up, it's dancing and watching me. Oh, Moon! Do you happen to be
holding the spirit of my beloved one within you? Is that smile of yours
actually her smile? Oh, Moon, if you know anything about her, tell me if she is
okay! How hard is it not to believe in heaven and hell when every inch of you
yearns the best for the soul which is gone! Moon, please shine above me and
give me strength to understand whatever it is that I must understand!

Today it
has been a month without you, my love. The longest month of my life. You have
no idea how different the world looks now. There's something missing. Knowing
that I will never again see you smile, touch your hair and your face, caress
your skin and listen to your laughter. It makes me wonder if it's worth it to
go on living (if I was gone too perhaps we could have a picnic on the Moon).

There's
something too heavy on my chest. Sometimes I forget it is not possible for me
to see you again and I dress myself up, only to remember halfway your house
that you are not among us anymore. Then I find myself sobbing, sitting on the
sidewalk and hiding my face behind my hair (a habit which I got from you, my
love).

Moon, don't
go! Be my companion, there are no reasons to hide yourself behind the clouds. I
will do you no harm. Forgive me if I talk too much, it's just that I am lost
without her, Moon. I am talking to you because that is what I would see her
doing more frequently as her illness got stronger. Just a few more hours, Ms.
Moon, and I promise you I will be as shut as the cigarette I just threw away. I
shall clear my head, you know? I need to get absent-minded and I have got to
make a decision. You see, life without her is not an option. Nevertheless, I
don't believe I would be able to do what I wanted to do when I first came here
today.

My darling,
my petite, my sweetie. Forgive me. I remember how you used to ignore the names
I would call you for they sounded "too romantic" to you. Your soul,
my darling, so dark and so devastated would not allow the purest feelings to
make themselves at home within you. It doesn't matter, it never did. My
feelings were (and still are) pure and wide enough for both of us.

I see some
bats flying and it reminds me how scared you used to be of them. I can see your
face in my mind and I can see you frowning in fear and hiding yourself behind
me as if I was your protector and the bats weren't able to feel you while I was
there.

Oh, Moon.
Is it time to go? Please, hold on just a little bit more. I miss her so much it
hurts, I just need a few more minutes. Forgive me if I am dull and make you
feel bored. I bet you are forced to listen to several testimonials made by
those whose hearts are either taken or broken and your chest (if you have one)
is already hurtfully full of other peoples' pain. It seems like you come across
as this mute psychologist, but I feel like you would take your own life if you
were sure that it would free you from the secrets and moanings you are forced
to keep to yourself.

Oh, baby. I
miss your hug. I miss the scent of your hair and your tasteless jokes and your
bad mood after you wake up. I miss your anger accesses and your sermons. I miss
your annoying optimism and your terrible cooking. I miss your slaps and your
kisses. I miss your smile and the feeling of your sweat body against mine late
at night. I miss you, my love.

Oh, Moon!
Could you ever imagine such a contrastive sort of love? I love her and I hate
her at the same time, Moon. I love her for she was whom she was, the darkest
and purest creature I have ever met and the one to whom the gates of Heaven (if
it does exists) were open to by the time she took her last breath. And I hate
her, Moon. I hate her because she took her own life and left me here full of
helplessness, suffering and needing her back. I hate her because even though
it's been a month since she passed away it still doesn't feel real, which only
makes my despair grow within my chest.

Don't get
me wrong, Moon. I know what her last wishes were. However, moving on isn't as
easy as it sounds, is it? I miss her so much it feels like she took a part of
me with her. It is anything but fair, do you agree with me, Moon?

I see it's
time. May I ask you only one more question, Moon? Do you think I can live
without her? Do you believe this hole in my chest will one day be filled if I
decide to carry on and leave this park while I still have blood running through
my veins? I am terrified of not loving anyone else as I loved her. As I love
her. Do you think she is in a better place, Moon (I mean if there really is a
better place for which our souls go after our bodies begin to rot)?

Oh, well.

I get up
and throw away my (fifith? Sixth?) cigarette that night and, avoiding those
reckless, drunk adolescents I left the park whilst the Moon began to hide and
the Sun was coming out.

I miss you,
my love.