I STILL tear up at the sight of the Moon. Every stare could feel like hours, accompanied by an unmistakable calmness that fills the air. For this reason, I always get reactions from my friends—a tap on the shoulder, a clap in front of my face, looks of worry. Still, I stare into the night sky, my attention gravitating to the Moon.
It seems childish to think about a space rock this way, but there is something so magnetic about it. Amid the hustle and bustle of the world, sometimes I put myself in the Moon’s shoes, yearning just to float, be unbothered, and be at peace with everything.
Even so, within that peace, I sense melancholy. In its presence, I am reminded of times spent basking in its moonlight with past friends and versions of myself that are now gone.
It is definitely strange to say, but the Moon has seen me free dance, shadow-conduct symphonies, and sing my heart out, showing a side of me some people will probably never see. Then again, it has also seen me lose direction, go through heartbroken episodes, and weep unrestrainedly. It has seen both the many faces I put on and the faces I avoid.
The Moon has seen me mourn the past mistakes and opportunities I had let slip, along with the good memories that are now slowly fading away. Despite the hurt, I still sometimes find myself asking old memories to stay when I should really be asking them to leave and make room for new ones.
All this from a simple stare of my lunar muse—my reminder of who I was, who I am now, and who I still yearn to be.
At times, I still distract myself with these reminders. Maybe I naturally longed to change the past so I may live in a “better” present, or maybe I just want closure for the things that still do not feel right. Whatever the reason, I like to believe that I am slowly redefining what the Moon means to me.
Since I moved back to the city, I think I have been dealing with myself more kindly, able to contain the poetics of the past and replace them with what lies ahead.
I would be lying to you if I said that its aura no longer overwhelms me. There have been days when I would remember how happy and free I used to be, but more powerful now is the realization that life does not wait for me to finish mourning the past.
After all, the Moon has been here long before me and will stay long after I am gone—all I can do now is move on. With or without me, the Moon’s phases will change, and it will keep going.
Yes, I will miss how I used to laugh, smile, and find joy in the most peculiar things, but that time has passed. The way I do these then-mundane things might differ from before, but they are nonetheless still genuine sparks of joy.
Thus, know that when the Sun sets and the Moon does rise, the tears will still pile up—sometimes for no particular reason—and that’s okay. I have learned that I can stop, stow away the “what ifs” and “had nots,” and just bathe in the moonlight.
Then maybe, if I expose myself enough to that moonlight, it may just shine back on the past and I will finally find clarity. Regardless if that day should ever come, I will continue to strive as I always have, trying to find a peace that can take me to the Moon and back.
Enzo is a Biology student who is expected to graduate from the Ateneo de Manila University in 2025. In service of others, he hopes to use all his learnings to help create a humanistic and science-driven future where all life—not just people—is loved and cared for.
Editor’s Note: The views and opinions expressed by the opinion writer do not necessarily state or reflect those of the publication.
