The story of the Moon

I've spent a lifetime envying the sun and the way she slept peacefully even at dusk, knowing that when it's dawn, she'll be back to those who love her and whom she loved back.

They'll always appreciate her shine, and she'll give them the spotlight they need. They'll feel recognized, and she'll feel important.

I tried a million ways to be more like her, and less like me.

I've tried shining, but my rays were so dim and weak that they were barely noticeable.

Even when people started recognising my presence when she wasn't there, I felt like a second choice; easily replaceable.

When they noticed how pretty I was and how my rays were beautifully different from hers, I still got insecure because it meant they only liked me when I was shining, unlike her, who was always loved.

I decided to stay away from her and them. I needed more time for myself, to understand me, to appreciate me, and to love me.

I learnt then that even though my light was dim, dreamers loved to stand and stare. They loved spending nights talking to me and telling me their secrets.

They believed I was trustworthy, and I am.

I acknowledged the fact that although I seemed very far away from everyone, those who reached me were not disappointed, nor burned.

I also knew that it was okay to have a dark side that no one sees; no one is perfect, and I shouldn't seek perfection.

What I sought was acceptance, and I did.

I came back, and I saw how beautiful I was, not by the way I shine, but simply for being me.

They had already loved me for myself, but I had to love myself first to see that, and to see that the moon and the sun are equally breathtaking, just in different ways, and to different people.