The Moon
Yesterday, on my ride to Quezon City, I kept looking at the moon.
The moon is admired by many. And why not? It is beautiful. Poets scribed about it; NASA send people to plant flags on it; sailors are guided by it; and werewolves come whenever it appears. Surely, something as shiny and standoffish would receive so many attention.
But it doesn’t. The moon is a lot like all those beautiful girls that become campus crushes. They are popular, and admirations come to them like diarrheas.
But does the moon never feel lonely, especially during nights when it is not accompanied by all the stars? And for moon being so beautiful, when was the last time it has entered our conversation? How come people often ignore it and take it for granted? Was it because we are too used to its beauty, that we fail to admire it as often as we can?
I ask the same question to all those popular pretty faces: do they never feel lonely as well? And if we actually get to be around the pretty faces everyday, would we have noticed their beauty every passing time, or would we have ignored it, like how we ignore earth’s biggest worshipper?
