A Letter To My Younger Self

By C.R. Doolan

The moon is an old friend of mine,

She has always watched over me,

Through countless nights as I toss and turn,

As I dip in and out of sleeps cruel embrace.

She who has always kept me company,

While I struggle to find relief in sleep,

When I wake delirious from lingering nightmares,

Unable to tell fact and fiction apart as they mesh into one.

She who has provided me with light,

On nights I become fearful of the dark,

Of the creeping creatures that reside within the shadows of 

my room,

Of haunting memories and almost has beens that have long 

taken up residence in my mind.

She who has lulled me to sleep,

Tucking a blanket over my writhing body,

Brushing a kind hand across my forehead, 

Singing sweet nothings in my ears to distract me from my 

thoughts.

She who has seen me at my worst,

Seen me cry until I collapse from exhaustion,

Heard me as I scream out for sleep to end my waking 

torment,

Watched me jolt awake drenched in cold sweat after a vivid 

nightmare.

No one knows me like the moon does,

Maybe that’s why I sometimes chose her company over 

sleep,

Choosing exhaustion over the possibility of a bad dream, 

Knowing I’ll regret it in the morning but being unable to 

gamble away my sanity.

Sometimes I listen to how the wind howls at night,

How it screams and bangs against my windows, 

And I wonder if maybe the moon understands me more than I 

know,

And I hope that she, too, finds comfort in my company.

By C.R. Doolan