Full Moons

That's the thing about this city, you’re either coming or going. If you stick around long enough you’ll end up forgetting who exactly you were when you arrived. Nothing ever stayed consistent. The trends, the businesses, the people, the personalities. The only thing that remained the same was the traffic and the glimpses of sunlight that caught your eye as it flickered between the buildings. I missed the summer breeze of the open country, but the opportunity here was undeniably worth it. I worked at an art studio at the corner block of my apartment, and I never ran out of inspiration. The concoction of faces you could encounter just by stepping outside, I grew a deep appreciation for the influx of people. The variety of backgrounds that molded each individual differently. I made a habit out of getting too involved out of sheer curiosity. Diving deeply into the history of the people I, then, considered to be friends, but that term was used loosely here. Most of them were concerned with the latest gossip or who could get them the next best thing. I never understood how they ignored the complexity of stories shared, always ready to flip it back to themselves and what they know. Strangers could become intimate encounters if they could only learn the art of listening. Humanity was patiently waiting to be heard and I was eager to learn.

It took longer than I’d like to admit for me to realize many of my so-called friends likely still considered me a stranger. You become hard to get to know when you’re always the one asking questions. Truthfully, I enjoyed remaining silent, seeing how much people would spill out from the parts of themselves they often forgot existed. They radiated an alluring vibrancy under the unfamiliar exposure. Witnessing their expressions sharpen at the opportunity to continue, I had found my muse in the faces of authenticity. It was a service I had yet to receive, never getting the opportunity to show my true colors. I feared they were fading gray, or merging with the shades of my surrounding. I couldn’t figure out if I was finding myself or losing myself, maybe this was the consequence of accepting change. Stuck in the habit of observation, I was neglecting who I was when I engaged. Did I recognize the person I was presenting or was it simply the routine I had fallen into? This city had a way of shaping your thoughts into an overly analytical roadmap to answers. Through their surface level conversations they worked to prove they had discovered the best solutions to their problems, while ignoring the issues that lurked beneath their superficial exteriors. I, on the other hand, couldn’t escape the discoveries of my internal being. Always learning more, but never enough to solve the puzzle. My pieces appeared deformed when trying to connect them with the people I surrounded myself with. I gazed upon the edges of my friends and, while appreciating their every curve, just couldn't see how we fit together. I ached for someone I could click with, someone I didn't have to force myself into, someone I could simply exist with and not have to dissect parts of myself to understand our interactions. I think I must’ve wished upon a star; she fell into my life like she forgot about the wings that were strapped upon her back. I always assumed they grew out from her soul just to prove her divinity to the world.

I wasn’t usually one to accept the invitation, turned them down so many times eventually they stopped sending them, but tonight was different. I was feeling adventure, full of excited energy. A full moon on halloween must’ve been fated to be an interesting night. It was a holiday that had always intrigued me. The one night a year people were allowed to let out their inner demons and even then, chose to keep them hidden under a mask. Yet there was a sense of freedom with the anonymity of a costume. With the permission to choose who you wanted to be, like every other day, I chose to go as myself. In my defense, it was a last minute plan and I wasn’t one to throw something together without inspiration. I had an oversized white long sleeve shirt that was sure not to cling to my figure. It hung off the corner of my hip on one side and was roughly tucked into my ripped jeans, that were well past their prime, on the other. Black belt, white shoes, red hat, and a baggy mustard yellow jacket. The only part of my outfit I put effort into was my socks. Red devil horns scattered across their black canvas, I wanted to show some holiday spirit. I cuffed my jeans to flash the spectators with a sense of who I was. Just as I got to the mirror to admire my attire, there was a soft vibration tangled in the bulky blankets of my unmade bed. It was Wyatt. I rummaged through the covers, throwing pillows to the ground. Keeping track of my phone was not a strong suit of mine. Five rings in, I was certain he would have hung up by then, but I got the chance to answer. Slightly out of breath from the scavenger hunt, I took one big inhale to center myself before speaking, “Hey, what’s up?” It sounded like he was already there, excessive chatter filled the space between our conversation, I could barely hear him, “So are you coming out with us or what? Me and twist could meet you at your place at 8:30 if you’re in.” I hesitated, twist was an unexpected invite. He was out of town for a few weeks and truthfully, it was a nice break from dealing with his excessive passes at me, “um, yeah that works. Sounds like a plan.” It was already 8:15, so I sat there waiting while second guessing my decision three or four times. Two loud bangs at the door redirected my anxiety and we were on our way.

They were not delighted at the fact that I hadn’t worn a costume, but I jumped at the opportunity to add on to theirs. Wyatt was dressed in all green with darker green and purple fuzz balls glued to his shirt, while Twist was wrapped in toilet paper with a neatly rolled top that resembled a tinfoil hat. They were weed and a joint. Inspiration struck and I was more than happy to accompany them as their lighter. I was very content with my choice to wear my red winter hat. “This party is going to be the biggest rave of the century! I wonder if they’ll have a slutties costume award, I’ll have their trophy waiting for them.” Twist was already drunk off of the bottle of whiskey that hung out of his back pocket between the layers of white, and I was already annoyed by his presence. “Dude, relax. Respect the drunk women while we're there.” Wyatt always had a way of bringing him back to his senses with a gentle nudge toward common sense. “It is gonna be dope though. What made you finally decide to come out with us?” He glanced over toward me, “Oh, I don’t know really, I was in the mood for adventure I guess.” Twist jumped ahead and threw his fist in the air, “Hell yeah! It’s always an adventure with Twisted T.” and for a split second I appreciated the energy he brought to the moment. Twist’s real name was Oliver, but he always claimed that it just was too generic for his brand, he had a point. We took a cab to the outskirts of the city. It was very touristy for us, but the closest subway station to the party was too far out of the way and none of us wanted to deal with that walk. The building looked run down, the street lights outside the apartment were out and the one at the front door was flickering. I couldn’t tell if this was creative decoration or just how they lived. Either way, it intensified the vibes of the night. “Did you tell them we’re here?” “Yeah, I just got the message. Fifth floor, first door on the right.” Wyatt replied. The staircase was decorated with paper cutouts of black bats that were taped to the walls, covering some of the flakey chipped paint that cracked in spirals as we walked up. Two Loud knocks, Wyatt was a man of routine. Then there she was, “Oh awesome! You guys made it.”, she said to the group while continuously staring at me. “Yeah, yeah, and we come bearing gifts, ironically it’s not weed.” Twist said while laughing to himself. Wyatt pointed toward me, “and we brought more people.” I waved, “Trick or treat!” I felt the weight of instant regret rise from the pits of my stomach, but she laughed and said “Cool, well come in, enjoy the party.” I walked over to the kitchen to grab a drink while Wyatt and Twist went to greet some of their other friends. “What's your poison?” The guy dressed in purple pants and a green vest to match hair asked. His grinch smile was perfectly drawn to accentuate the edges of his mouth. “I’ll tell you, if you tell me how you got those scars.” we both laughed, “I can never say no to tequila, clear if you have it.” “We have everything, don't you worry.” He replied. While he was pouring the shot, I felt a slight nudge on my left shoulder. “Hey, need a drinking partner?” She stood there with eyes brighter than the sun reflecting off the ocean's surface that I was certain I would drown into, “I am always on the search for a partner in crime, but I’m not sure angels are supposed to get into that kind of trouble.” I said with a smirk that sparked something in both of us.