Outside the lines

The Moon actually is rising up. It’s neither round nor clear and has this color of yellowish. It stares at me through the windows, smiling and sympathizing. Sometimes I cannot go to sleep for the fact that I’m yearning for someone to talk to. Isn’t that reason for such insomnia just pathetic? I feel like crying now. There’s this scenario playing over and over again in my head whenever loneliness starts piling up inside my soul. That has been a cold winter night with snow falling down heavily and the ground’s covered in tons of freezing tiny snowflakes. Almost absorbed into the cold-hearted whiteness of the night is me, standing small under the big sky as if I could vanish into thin air at any moments. I was hurt, badly hurt, so hurt that my heart still writhes in agony now thinking about it. Someone has left me. And there I stand desperately calling for that person out of the hopeless darkness right before my very eyes. Nevertheless, all can be seen is snow, snow everywhere, as though that one has turned into pieces of snowflakes then fallen down my shoulders like sorrowful teardrops. I feel no hope left. The pain is so great that my heart feels as if it’s shattered into thousands of fragments, just like those of a broken mirror. My throat struggles to speak out one small sound: “Ah…”. Being so muffled, my only voice has been swallowed by the chilly wind of a December’s night. All that’s left is myself trembling on my knees and crying tears of inconsolable grief, the tears of someone who always lets go of what’s important to her consciously and intentionally…