"Some answers don't come in words — they come in light."
Dear Diary,
Tonight, I couldn't sleep.
Not from noise. Not from nightmares.
Just… thoughts. So many of them.
Some were loud and silly — like "Did I close my locker?"
Others were heavy, whispering, "What if I never become what I hope to be?"
I tossed. I turned. I even flipped my pillow to the cold side three times.
Nothing worked.
So I climbed out of bed and tiptoed outside. The night was velvet — soft, dark, and alive with stillness. The stars blinked like shy secrets.
And then I saw her.
The Moon.
Round. Bright. Quietly watching.
I sat down and looked up.
"Hi," I whispered.
To my surprise, she blinked.
"Hello, Wunor," she said, in a voice that hummed like lullabies.
I gasped. "You know my name?"
"I know the names of all the girls who ask big questions when the world is asleep."
I wrapped my arms around my knees.
"Why do I feel so full of feelings? Why do I care so much about things no one else seems to notice?"
The Moon tilted her glow, like a thoughtful nod.
"Because you were made of stardust and softness," she said. "You feel deeply, not because you're weak — but because you're wide."
"Wide?"
"Like an ocean. You hold things. You reflect. You create tides in people just by being near."
I felt my eyes sting. Not from sadness. Just from being seen.
"But sometimes I wish I was more like the sun," I confessed. "Loud. Bright. Sure of itself."
The Moon smiled gently.
"The sun shines because it burns. But I glow because I listen. Not every kind of light needs to shout."
We sat together in silence for a while.
I told her about school.
About how I'm always trying to say the right thing, feel the right way, be the right version of myself.
And she listened. Oh, Diary, she listened like no one else ever had.
Finally, I asked her, "Do you ever get tired of shining for everyone?"
She looked down at me, soft and proud.
"Every now and then," she said. "But that's why I disappear sometimes. Even the moon rests."
That made me smile.
Before she faded behind a slow-moving cloud, she added one last thing:
"Remember, Wunor — your softness is not a flaw. It's a frequency. And the right people will hear it."
And then… she was gone.
I came back inside, crawled under my blanket, and for the first time tonight,
my thoughts stopped spinning.
Because now I know something true:
The moon talks to girls like me.
And sometimes, just being who I am… is enough to light the dark.
Till tomorrow,
Wunor 🌙🕊️