The moon is a disco ball
Circled by colorful phantoms
Shining beams of light across the sky
To make the stars
The moon dances with the ocean
Back and forth, push and pull
They create a spectacle for us to glimpse at
They bring life into our world
The moon hangs from the ceiling of the void
Impossibly bright for something
Made of rocks that seem so dull
Its flesh an illusion
The moon shines upon
The people
The earth
The spirits
The moon shines brightest
When the darkest hour arrives
When the sun falls
When it carries life with it
Tonight the moon is full. It glows as bright as it did before the Finders came, except with a few cracks running across its face.
Sometimes when it’s late and I’m sad or bored, I’ll just look up at the sky to remind myself that I’m still alive, that I’m still me. But all that the moon reminds me of is how lonely I am. That everyone is a threat, whether or not they are a Finder.
I wish I had somebody to talk to. But ever since I lost my best friend, I didn’t really have anyone. And now I think it’s too late to start trusting again. My life wasn’t perfect before, but now it’s just hell. I feel so f**king betrayed because everything was just getting better and then bam! Face stealer apocalypse. I can’t even show a reaction when I realize someone has been replaced by a Finder, or I’ll be replaced too.
Every day I wake up to the fear that my corpse is just a puppet, that I’m not in control. And—on some level deep below— it is. And that really f**king scares me. Sometimes it’s like my instinct to survive shuts off all the other parts of my brain and-
...
I just had a morbid thought. What.. happens when you get caught..? Do you just die? Are you still in there somewhere? Would you just be stuck in a body that’s no longer yours for the rest of your life- I.. I need to stop thinking about this. No time for an existential crisis.
Anyways, like I said, the moon’s full tonight. Bright white orb with cracks running along its surface, it looks just as damaged as everything else down here. I lean against the railing of the little deck connected to the place I call home. I really want to cry.
What’s next? I think. Where do we go from here? I put my face in my hands. Why.. Why am I still going? Tears are leaking out. What’s the point of living, if.. I head back inside.
I scream. I scream and yell and cry. I might as well piss my pants too.
I’m just so done with living in this world.
