Full Moon Solitude

How much would you pay to go to the moon?

I’ve never liked the full moon.
When it appears, the world turns strange  the air thickens, sounds sharper, and the space around me seems crowded with things I can’t see. It’s as if unseen beings start moving among the living, brushing past quietly, watching, waiting.

During those nights, I feel different — heavier, drained, as though the moon pulls on my thoughts. Sometimes, I even think I carry the same energy as those unseen presences. A silent vampire of emotions, feeding and fading at once. So I keep my distance. I stay away from people. I stay away from my family.

At times, I sense something right beside me, hovering close, reading the words I type before I finish them. Maybe I’ve allowed it by thinking about it too much. Maybe imagination has become reality.

People talk about aura, about invisible energy that wraps around us. I’ve never been sure what that feels like, but I’ve felt rooms turn heavy for no reason. I’ve caught strange scents  not perfume, not food  however something faint and unfamiliar, like a signal from a world layered over this one. Sometimes, I even smell it in dreams.

And always, during the full moon, temples seem to come alive. The priests chant louder, the bells ring longer, and the prayers stretch deep into the night. It’s as though everyone knows something unseen stirs when the moon is full. I’ve wondered why  the full moon attracts both worship and witchcraft, devotion and darkness. Even Muslims look to the moon to mark their sacred days. Maybe it’s because the moon watches everything, reflecting light and shadow alike.

When I talk to people, I notice their mood sink, their energy dim. Maybe it’s me. Maybe my words pull too much. So I’ve learned silence. I stay apart. I delete the past  people, memories, even the entities that used to hover near me.

Solitude keeps me clear.

Still, sometimes, I wish there were others like me  someone who understands what it’s like to feel the air shift when you enter a room, or to sense an unseen presence standing just beyond your shoulder.

But maybe this path is meant to be walked alone.

Tonight, as the full moon rises again, I whisper to the night air,
“I release everything that isn’t mine. I erase the weight of all that came from others especially my father’s relatives and their bitterness. Let it end with this moon.”

The light spills through the window, pale and calm. The smell fades. The silence softens.

And once again, I sit alone  however at peace  letting the moon fade behind the clouds, carrying away all that was never meant to stay.