I am the night. Ego sum nocte. I am the bleakness of the cold, the uncertainty of dark’s shield, all that is fear and mystery. I am enchantingly elegant. I do not belong here.
I am the night. Ego sum nocte. I am the bleakness of the cold, the uncertainty of dark’s shield, all that is fear and mystery. I am enchantingly elegant. I do not belong here. Here is for the bleak starkness of day. I am not the day, I am the night. I shouldn’t be here, but I did things I shouldn’t’ve. Nobody really knows me. Nobody knows how I feel. Nobody understands. They don’t let me have my darkness here. Vivo ego in tenebris. Without the dark, I cannot live, but here it is replaced with light.
Sequel/Side-story to Princessy Please set the background to dark.
I am the night. Ego sum nocte. I am the bleakness of the cold, the uncertainty of dark’s shield, all that is fear and mystery. I am enchantingly elegant. I do not belong here. Here is for the bleak starkness of day. I am not the day, I am the night. I shouldn’t be here, but I did things I shouldn’t’ve. Nobody really knows me. Nobody knows how I feel. Nobody understands. They don’t let me have my darkness here. Vivo ego in tenebris. Without the dark, I cannot live, but here it is replaced with light. Infectious light that finds its way into every corner. Lux. There are no shadows for me here. I think that’s why I’m here. What an ironic name for this place. Nomen meum. Luna. Luna. The night is born within my name. I deserve darkness, yet I can’t get it. Solus. All I can feel now is loneliness. There has been nobody here but me since I came. I’m sure there are others, somewhere, but not here. I don’t want much, just the dark. Yet they won't give me anything. Amo tenebris. Amo nocte. Non amo hic.
Dreams are part of the night. When I can sleep, I don’t dream anymore. But I do hear voices. One voice, the same four lines. It’s nothing and it’s everything I cannot fall asleep Wandering, pouring through my head The secrets that you keep. When I wake, it sticks in my mind. Omnia et nihil Non possum obdormiscere Erraticas, infundens per caput Secreta quod teneas. My mind is in two languages. It is like two worlds. In one, I am the night and all its beauty. In the other, I am the harshness of here. I favor one, but am forced to be the other. My bilinguality is fading too fast. I’m losing the darkness. This light is finding its way into every nook of my soul. Anima mea. If I am here for too long, I’ll lose the night forever. I’ll lose myself. But that is the point of me being here. That’s why I’m here. It’s working. Ego sum evanescens.
They’ve taken everything from me. My home, my history, even my name. Non sum Luna. I am not the night. I fear who I am and who I was and what I will be. Everyday, its looping from day to day, it is sucking the night out of me. They are taking myself away from me. There is no night here. Nescio. Everything operates on the day. The rest get their darkness, but I am in the light always. I sleep in the light for I am used to it. But I need the dark ad vivendum. They don’t know what is best for me. I am afraid of them. Timor comedit me.
I wish for many things. I wish for the darkness most. Volo amari. I am ‘getting better’, so they should let me be more normal. Yet I am not better. I do not talk to them. Tacita. If they could see into my mind, they could see what they are doing to me. It’s progress. It’s killing me. I find that I cannot speak. I don’t try. They certainly do. I have to block them out because it gives me painful memories. Memoria. All of my memories hurt. Yet I do not feel the pain. I am all numb. To everything. So no progress. Infixus sum.
They talk to me too much. They tell me who I am. But that’s not me. They say my name. Luna. Luna. Please Luna. We’re trying to help. Talk to me, Luna. Luna, please. You have to help yourself, Luna. I can’t help you if you don’t speak. Luna. Never who I really am. Luna. If you talk, things will get better. Don’t you want to get out of here, Luna? Please Luna. We’re here for you. I have something for you, Luna. It will help you. I will help you. It’s all taurus cacas. Hello, Luna. Goodbye, Luna. How are you today? Just say something. Whenever you’re ready. Goodnight, Luna. It’s for the best.Est pro optimus.
The only real sleep I get is artificial. Everything is. The darkness. The light. Tenebris. Lucem. My emotions and theirs. The world which surrounds me is made by them, put here for me. I am supposed to think it is real, but it is not. It’s all suspended in fantasy. The lucidity is disgusting. They’re not real. Sum sola. I feel as if I am dead. Sometimes death is easier. But I cannot die, for then the glass would shatter and the world would collapse and all of the people who are living in this fantasy would disappear. And I feel for them. I don’t dream at night because I am in one and they can’t be nested. Odi eam. Odi vitam. This isn’t even living. It is a purgatory in a sense- this is where those who can’t die go. Here I am immortal. Immortalitatem mors est.
Luna.Luna. Luna. There are three ways that I am. Luna est tenebris.Luna needs help. Luna is pinpricked with light- an empty shell. Nothing is me. Luna is being taken from me and twisted and discarded.Luna is simply a projection, a copy, there but not there. Luna is not what she used to be. I used to be Luna. At least close. Now I am nothing. Luna is always within my grasp, yet she remains elusive.Luna is what I fear is my goal. Luna I can’t have more words for. Luna is my past. Luna is my present. Luna, I fear, is my future. That is what they want. They’ve stripped away Luna, to leave me with Luna. Next they shall mold me into Luna. All three exist within me still. I’m not sure if I want any of them. Luna est absentis. Luna is progress. Luna isn’t me.
Ego sum nocte. Haec est dies. Tenebras meas est absentis. Quomodo possum sustinebit?
Please, Luna. Speak. We can help if you do. Luna, please talk. No. Pl- you just did. Te odeo, interfice te cochleare. You spoke. Stultus est sicut stultus facit. Luna, that’s great! That’s progress. See, we can help you. Utinam logica falsa tuam philosophiam totam suffodiant. Now, Luna, if you would only speak in English... Labra lege. Please, Luna. Quo usque tandem abutere patentia nostra? Luna, I know you can speak English. Please try. No. Fine then, I’ll just have to- wait. It says here that- Lege atque lacrima. I have to move you to the... main building. Fabriacate diem, punk. Let’s go, Luna. Recedite, plebes! Gero rem imperialem! I can see this is going to be... difficult. Ut si! Hold still, Luna...
And darkness is with me again. Darkness leading to... light, once again. Vae. This cursed place... I can’t remember why I’m here. No. This isn’t where I usually am... Hi! Deus meus! I cannot even see, and the pain in my head is unbarable... I’m your new rooooo-mate! What’s your name? I’m Scarlett! Shh... no. The blurriness gives way to a... girl, hovering, over me. Tace atque abi. I don’t know what that means, sorry. She is crazy. This place is crazy. I am not crazy. I am the night, why can’t they see that? Oh good, she’s awake. Scarlett, I see you’ve met Luna. I sure have! She only says weird stuff, though. Good, Scarlett. She’s speaking in another language. Like magic? No, not like magic. My eyes are closed with some hope of darkness. It is elusive. Scarlett, why don’t we let Luna get some sleep? Come on, Scarlett, let’s go to the game room where you can dance! I like to dance! I know. Come on. Illegitimi non carborundum. Goodnight, Luna. Good. Night. Bonum nocte. And it shall be.
The first real sleep I have achieved, maybe because I am safe. Normality is one step closer. I am encased in the gray suspension of not asleep, not awake. Luna! Are you up yet? It’s time for breakfast! Puto vos esse molestissimos. Um... okay, but we have to go. I am up all too soon. My head pounds. I am drowning. You okay? Cepe indicum. We have to goooooo. I don’t want another strike, and I’m in charge of you. Raptus regaliter. I’m gonna learn your magic language one day and talk to you, Luna. But we have to go. My eyes are swimming in light down the long, long hallway. This is the cafeteria. We eat here. You scan your bracelet and the magic machine gives you food! It’s super fun! Here! I never said she could touch me, but she has me and my wrist and I’m still confused. Okay, here’s your tray. Hold it. So much light. And now I’ll do mine. Tuam matrem feci. There we go, let’s sit down now! Follow me. Oh, and you have to eat all of it, or you get a strike. And trust me, you don’t want a strike because that’s bad. I hate this light. I hate this noise. I hate it here. Odi... omnia. I am the night. Is the day born of love and the night born of hate?
Dilectione mea nihil est Sed Tenebris et solitu A nexu Impossibile ad frangendum
Good morning Luna! You should get up now. Too much light. Always too much light. One year is half light, dimidium tenebris. That is how it works. But not here. Always too much light. This light has been seeping through me, entering through microscopic crevices, pushing and eroding. I am too much light. Yet not, for I am still the night. I am not the day. Dies est... dies est. Come on Luna. You’re going to miss art class. No. Luna I... I... Her laugh is infectious in the wrong way. Crazy. Crazy, all of them. I leave her, for I do not care. Moecha Putida Luna, wait up, I’m fine, I’m coming! The walking is the hardest. Even with noise covering everything, I still drown in solidarity. In silentium. It is so sterile, yet made vile by what is contained inside. This hall is killing me. Everything is. Populus. Muros. Everything. Even the sound around me, made to drown my thoughts and preserve me kills me. Too much sound. Too much silence. Too much light. Today you should be finishing your paintings. Remember, it’s how you look deep down inside, not who you are on the surface. Okay? Okay.
I look into me, into mine, into who I am and I am drowning, lost, falling, into my own soul. Waves of darkness, of cool moonlight, helpless yet strong, drinking in the cold darkness though it’s poison. The shimmer of magic fading with disbelief, still clinging onto the water for hope of survival. Beauty and darkness. Decorem et tenebrae. A life without death and a death without life. Shimmering, misty purgatory. Night.
Luna, I love what you did with the... Luna, are you alright? Luna? Luna!
It is dark and like night but here and to me because I am Luna, Princess of the Night and it glows and sparkles in the starlight and Celeste can’t see because she is day and I am night and here it is and it is gone and no no no no no no time stops and it touches the floor and it is in lots and lots and lots of little itty bitty pieces all sparkling in the moon and star lite that celeste can't see but I can and it is gone and I can't have it but its mine so I should and maybe it will come back but no no no no no it won't because suddenly everything is dark and black like the night and I can feel cold cold like the fog by the water in the twilight and I can feel it all around me all like night but I like night but I don't like this because it is not at all like night no no no please Celeste please help me I need help I need to scream but no sound and no Celeste but only cold and dark and misty and I don't like it and I am scared and I want Celeste but she is not here and no sound and cold filling me all around and I can't feel anything anymore just cold and I can’t see or feel or hear or know but I can't stop the cold filling me up and I want it to stop but it won't and please Celeste help me help me I need you I love you please but no Celeste only cold and dark and black and fog and death everywhere and it won’t stop and I can’t fight but please the dark and the cold and the mist and I'm all alone.
It is dark. Darkness. It’s relief. I haven’t known darkness life this for a long time. T-ten... I know this word, I do... it’s ten... ten- I can’t? Panic I thought I could be Luna, I really did, but what is this? I fear it’s working, no, it’s worked. Every ounce of light, chipping away at my soul... it’s worked. This is not who I am... who is this? Ego... ego... I can’t. I fear who I am now. It seems you’re making progress, Luna. This was your first attack in a long time. On the bright side, it’s the first time you’ve spoken English to us. What do you think of that, Luna? No. No? No. No no no no no no. No. No. I... I- no. Well then. I... can’t... e-ego... Nice job Luna. I see you’ve made progress. P-pro...gress? Yes, Luna. Progress. I know what I’m becoming. You don’t need to say it. I’m so proud of you. No. Nonetheless, Luna, I’m afraid it’s time to say goodnight. Goodnight. Good. Night. You did well today, Luna, you really did. And you’ll continue to do well, hmm? Good...night. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.
So they tell me you’re better now. Is it true? Are you going to leave? Ooh, can we talk now? If we can talk I can finally have a friend here! Oh, then I wouldn’t want you to leave. Yes. No. No. Oh. Oh. I found your diary. No. No. Hot, blinding rage, a flash of... pain. For both of us. No. Denial is my shield, though it’s made of wood and burning from my pure anger. The heat is unbearable. I thought I wasn’t able to have emotions any more, yet I know what this feels like. No. Um, yeah, sorry. I didn’t really look through it really, just flipped through, and you say the word ‘light’ twenty-two times. Kinda often for someone who hates it, don’t you think? How could she have known my thoughts, my feelings if she didn’t read it? You talk in your sleep, Luna. And she reads minds. But she doesn’t, no, she can’t know who I am, even I don’t know, not any more. Well, as long as we’re coming clean... Deus meus. ... So I heard you were making progress and stuff so I told Cracky ‘cause I was excited, and turns out nobody really knows you’re here, I don’t know why, but I had to tell Cracky all about you, but he was dumb and told Lulu, and she’s kinda a loudmouth, I mean, it’s not like she can really control it, but, yeah, and I hope you’re not top secret or anything... ha. Ha? I want... I need... I don’t know anymore. I can’t know any more. I don’t have the ability to. I feel increasingly strange. Oh, and this fancy doctor dude all the way from wherever-it-is came to check us all out and he put us all on new meds, which is probably why you’re making progress, I mean, we all are. She’s explanatory today. Lucky for me. Luna? Luna? Yes? I asked you a question. No. It wasn’t a yes or no question, silly. No. Can you only say no? No. You sure? Yes. Anything other than yes and no? Yes. Like what? Oh. Ugh, Luna. She doesn’t mean it. Her tone is still playful and feather-like. It shouldn’t be, not here, not in this place. Luna? She’s here! We’ve been talking. You’ve been talking, Scarlett. Luna I have... Scarlett would you mind doing me a favor and going to the common room? I know a certain someone who I think is there currently... Cracky? Maybe, you’ll have to go and see, though. Yay! Of course. Bye Luna! Goodbye. Luna, I have something to explain to you. I don’t want it. We get a lot of young children here, children who haven’t done well in foster homes or the type who can’t find a school for them. The trouble is, they tend to not be very stable, and shut themselves off from the world, much like you do. We find it beneficial to both parties if we pair a child with an older patient. And? We’d like you to be in the program. No. No? Luna I really think you- No. Luna, listen to me. If you do this, it would mean great things for you, even possibly getting out of here sooner. And I have faith that you can handle it. You’re a very special girl, Luna. No. I am not special. My blood is special. The darkness that pulses beneath my veins is special. The way I was born makes me who I am. I can’t say it’s fair. I, Luna, special? No. Draw my blood from me and you can notice my soul taken with it. Leave me here empty, and I am ordinary. No. Not special. No one cherishes the night for its uniqueness. It’s rediculous. How can you tell me, I’m special, how? It’s not me. It’s the clouded past and future of my blood. I am simply the present. Easily forgettable, another spare to cast aside. Yet I am the chink in the armor, the plan that went awry. Should I be proud of that? Am I special because of it? Even more ordinary.
I knew it would happen. I knew you wouldn’t be strong enough. You’re just a shell, a shadow of what you used to be. No, not a shadow. Shadows are dark. You don’t deserve the darkness. Look what they’ve done to you. Who are you? Can you even answer that? You’ll never get out of here. They’ll just keep chipping away, until there is nowhere for the dark to hide. You’re a coward. You hide in what little darkness you can find. You’re despicable. Can you find your words now? Does the Latin flow over your tongue as if you were born from it? Do you dwell in the darkness, bend it at your will? Are you anything but another stone at the seashore, meeting your fate in the hands of yet another child? No. You are nothing. You deserve nothing. Look at what you’ve made yourself. This is what you are. You’ve seen yourself in the light now. You can’t hide it. Did you really show any resistance? How easy it was for them to take you and bend you into what they wanted. How long did it take? Five days? Ten? Yes, yes, soon you’ll go home. But that isn’t your home. That is a home for darkness. You are not the night. You shall never have a home, never be anything but what they want you to be. This is what you’ve made of yourself. It’s shameful. You are not the night, and yet you still cling to it. Still hold hope at the darkness at the end of the tunnel. And you think you’re getting better. Your words, your identity, you darkness, none of it belongs to you. Who are you? There is no way of knowing, nothing you can identify with, nothing but loneliness to keep with you forever. You continue with life every day, blank and bleak in this sterile world. You just existing, barely, on the brink of insanity and you’re almost cured. And you’ve convinced everyone, even yourself, that you’re getting better. You’re not. In fact, you’re going to attempt to commit suicide tonight.
Immortality is a hard road, Luna, and as my gift, you’re going to travel it daily.
When I was a child, little, Celeste would stay up late to help me guard the night, getting very little sleep, but still being the role model for me. She would wrap me in a blanket and quiz me on the constellations once I knew them by heart. I would identify the planets and the phase of the moon. We would watch meteor showers, always scheduled by astronomers. Usually, she would go to bed a little after our nightly talks, but she always stayed up for the meteor showers. She would tell me to wish on the shooting stars, even after my uncountable lectures on the truth of them. For some reason, I always did. Maybe I still held some part of my innocence with me, even after all I’d been through, maybe I still clung to my naive ways. Maybe I wanted to believe. Maybe I did it because I knew Celeste was, and I wanted to be just like her. I don’t know why, and I don’t know if I knew then, but I still wished on every burning rock I saw hurtling through our atmosphere.
One night, there was a large shower forecasted late into the night, and Celeste promised to stay up like always. We waited and waited, feeling lucky that the sky was so clear, and when the time came, nothing. We sat, still waiting. Nothing. I began to cry. Not just weep, full out blobbery, embarrassing tears. Celeste held me in her arms, rocking me as I stained her nightgown with tears and snot. She told me she’d tell me a story to make up for it. Celeste always told good stories. I shut up, only sobbing quietly, as she rocked me beneath the stars.
“Luna, you are a child of the night. You were born in the night, and of it. The night Mama had you I stayed up all night waiting. Waiting for my baby sister. The night to my day. Finally the nurse let me come into Mama’s room to see you, and she looked very tired and weak, but you were perfect and precious, and she was holding you like you were made of spun sugar and could fall apart any second. Right when I came in Mama handed you to me. She... trusted me with you, even though I was little. She sat and stared at me as I rocked you in my arms, singing little lullabies only a toddler could imagine. She finally gathered the strength, and she told me to always take care of you, and to not forget her words, and I don’t.”
“So?”
“So I will always take care of you, and sung you sweet lullabies, and be the Mama you never got to have. I’ll always love you, Luna, whatever happens, and I’ll always be there for you to hold you when you cry. Okay?”
