#missysmadchallenge | #089

The moon forgot to rise, and I forgot to sleep.

The moon didn’t rise that night.

At first, no one noticed.

The sky simply felt… unfinished—like a sentence missing its final word,like breath held too long.

But I felt it.

Something in me listens when the world slips out of rhythm.

I stood by the window,waiting for that familiar glow to soften the edges of the dark—

but the dark stayed sharp.

Unanswered.

And sleep—

sleep never came.

Because without the moon,the night had no witness.

No quiet keeper of everything we don’t say out loud.

The hours stretched thin,thread bare,like they were losing their meaning one second at a time.

I walked through the silence as if it might speak first.

Checked the sky again. And again.

Nothing.

No silver light. 
No reflection. 
No reassurance that the world was still turning as it should.

That’s when I understood—

the moon hadn’t forgotten us.

It had simply turned away.

And maybe…

maybe I hadn’t forgotten to sleep.

Maybe I was meant to stay awake—
to hold the night together 
until it remembered how to be whole again.

So I lit a candle.

Sat with the dark.
Listened to the quiet like it was trying to tell me something 
I wasn’t ready to hear before.

And somewhere between the missing light 
and the endless hours,

I realised—

not all nights are meant for rest.

Some are meant 
for remembering 
who you are 
when nothing is guiding you.

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