She thinks too much. Too much that it eats it's way out of her. It makes her tired. It consumes her in tiny bits. It slumbers. It has been slumbering. It has been going on for a while, but only now does she realize it. Only now does she know it is there. Only now has she finally noticed it, but what can she do? There is only a very small part of her strength left, of herself. Every now and then, for a brief moment, it sparks. But when it breaks down in the middle of the night. It is completely dark, she is surrounded by it. Except for the moon, which keeps her company. Looking at her and wondering what the hell she is doing with her life. Sometimes she even thinks that the beautiful moon is mocking her. How pathetic she looks. But the moon has it figured out quicker than anyone else. The moon is the only one who knows what is really going on. The moon is the only one who notices. The silent tears that shimmer in the cool night breeze. Making a river for the others to appreciate. How she does her best every day, but the only one who really gives her recognition is the moon.

The beautiful moon that is allowed to grace the real version of herself every night.