My Moon and My Sun

Today, I wish I had woken up as someone else. Lately, my gaze has felt overwhelming and honestly, simply boring that even I’m fed up with the emotional wreckage I keep finding myself in.

When I dragged myself out of bed toward the coffee brewer, I caught a stream in the thin folds between seconds. The air shivered, like heat waves over a road, accompanied by the faintest echo of my own voice calling from a distance I couldn’t measure.

Time stretched, bent, and looped like a ribbon in the wind. Colours breathed differently, as if every shade had been stirred with a drop of dream. The air carried a weightless hum. A note resolved in me carrying a low vibration that I didn’t know how to rhyme.

The ground felt alive. It wasn’t pulsing or moving, but it was aware of my presence as though it recognised my steps.

I wasn’t home anymore. I was simply ahead of time.

I saw trees that wore the same green I’d known all my life, yet every leaf held a glint, dipped in a memory that I couldn’t catch in my mind. Each time I looked back, the leaves had shifted, rearranging themselves into shapes I almost recognised.

Above, birds flew across the sky but, they didn’t travel. The world beneath them kept moving while their wings were suspended under a beat that resembled a slow motion of time.

Everything called to a memory I knew, yet nothing returned in the way it once grew. A tree had grown sideways instead of up. A tower of light stood higher than I’d ever seen, as if it had grown from the dreams of the city itself, outgrowing its own shadow overnight. The air carried a scent that felt like a memory but belonged to no moment I’d lived in. I tried to follow the street I knew, but the horizon curved, guiding me into the crescent reach of its light.

Then I realised a shift, all at once. As if the air had exhaled a sharp breath out, realising whatever it was holding in for a long time. My footsteps echoed before I moved, my shadow stretched ahead as if it had chosen another to follow.

I lifted my head and within a second, I froze.
Across from me, someone mouthed my name without sound. I thought I was looking at myself, yet she was doing something I hadn’t done. She carried my reflection, but her smile appeared before mine.

The environment tilted. The leaves shifted toward me, the clouds pulled back, and the air leaned in like it was trying to listen, as if something had been waiting for me to arrive.

An echo of a whisper filled every cell in me, and suddenly everything felt alive:

You asked, and now you are given.
Somewhere you’ve always belonged.

But didn’t let yourself to land all along.
Choose whatever it is you want.
Reclaim the life you want to construct.

It felt like I had stepped sideways into a version of the world that had been running beside mine all along. Familiar enough to recognise, different enough to set itself apart from the one I knew.

Fear closed in when I thought I might never get back to the world I believed I belonged to. Then, turned into relief that softened my chest.

I was given a chance to make new choices, ones that wouldn’t lead me to wishing I was someone else.

Yet, an old pattern invited the familiar fear of missing out. With the possibility of not making the most of the chance I got.

Even so, I knew I had to claim it, since this was my new story to redesign and colour. There was only one thing to do: make the choices I usually wouldn’t.

The smallest decisions gave me tons of joy. Even ordering a meal I wouldn’t usually choose came with a freedom long overdue. I said all the things I swallowed back and watched the world shift in response.

I have never felt more energised. A strength came with challenging every negative emotion that accompanied a choice made differently.

The discomfort wasn’t danger, only my ego clinging to the identity it had built from expectations of myself, of others, and of my so-called personality.

When I surrendered, I finally felt met.

A stranger greeted me by name and spoke about something I hadn’t done yet always kept as a desire at heart. A child asked me a question so direct it felt like they’d read my mind. A song played somewhere in the distance, one I’d never heard, but whose words spoke my inner truth, the one I’d never shared with anyone.

I was being seen, not as the version others imagined, but as my soul uncovered.

With every encounter, I felt a lightness in my chest. My soul shed layer after layer until only my presence was left.

Suddenly, the quiet relief of the unfamiliar began to fade and a disappointment surged. I was certain that I was being dragged back into my familiar hell. My eyes scanned for any sign of the thing I would give everything to keep from returning.

I heard distant whispers. Footsteps that weren’t mine. Heat coming from somewhere unseen. I felt watched, though no one was there. My stomach tightened and my hands curled into fists.

Yet even with the fear, I felt an unseen pull forward. I took steps simply because I knew I normally wouldn’t. With one step came my laughter. With the next, my familiar cry.

Suddenly, a dark valley opened ahead. A blinding light lifted the heavy air all at once. I started to breathe again, only realising I had stopped when the air shimmered and carried a scent I had never known. Colours bloomed like magic, following the darkness that almost swallowed my heart.

Luminous, as if calling me to the source of light, I stood before the underworld’s hidden treasure, Persephone’s Garden, certain that something was waiting on the other side.

Among the shining lights, I saw the sun and the moon merged into one.

The little girl who had drifted and gotten lost in all the choices I made that were never settled by my heart. She stood there, my moon and my sun.

My sun that sparked with the creative fire of my joy, the dreamer’s sight, my eternal companion binding together all that was meant to shine.

My moon, the mother, the lover, the healer, my shadow moving between worlds, unafraid to step into my underworld to claim its power that was returned.

Around her, the garden bloomed like a map of my life. Each flower a choice I had once made, each thorn a path I had feared to take. The beauty wasn’t in avoiding the thorns, but in walking the path anyway, letting the stings remind me I was alive.

She didn’t have words to give, but she had something to offer.

A broken watch that showed I was beyond the worlds of all time.

It was never about the world not setting me free. It was never the world that had to change for me to become.

It was always my choices that kept discarding my moon and my sun.