I wondered, staring up at the moon like this, if my life would ever be as full as that shining rock in the sky. It’s light cast pale shadows over my backyard, and I stared out at the scene in front of me. I came out here a lot; whenever I felt sad, or lonely, or misunderstood. I had just had an argument with my mother and lost, and my mind seemed to be racing away from me. Though it was quite late, the full moon brightened the dark, weary sky and made it look to be about seven o’clock. I sighed, and shifted, when I heard someone in the room behind me. No one knew that I came out here, and I preferred to keep it that way. For me it was a place to escape to, where nothing else existed but me. I guess it’s kind of selfish of me to think like that, but it always made me feel better. I think I just need the fresh air. I gulped some of it in, then, breathing in the scent of night. Night smells teasingly of a new day about to start, but is not quite there yet. They say that night is for the madmen, and the poets. Maybe I am both? I am not sure. Sometimes I feel a little mad. I hear voices in my head teasing me, but I know that those voices are just mine, encouraging me, egging me on. I sat there, unsure, for ten minutes, twenty, until I finally fell asleep to night’s sweet lullaby.