On my birthday there was supposed to be a full moon and I’m sure there was under the clouds but I got out of bed to see it and couldn’t find it. I looked up on google where the moon was supposed to be (southwest) and looked there but all I saw were gray murky clouds with honey like light spilling from the cracks of clouds in the shape of tree roots. Almost like lighting, but stagnant, just the light of the moon undercovers— taunting its presence to me. I’m here but you don’t get to see how beautiful I am. I walked, nearly ran, and made large circles in the green lawn; an open field enclosed by large evergreen trees. They looked like monsters in the light. I ran south to north, east to west, north-east, to south–west. And still no moon. I stopped my wild-goose chase. The cold air of night and damp grass climbed up my pinstriped pajama shorts. My bare feet were now covered in grass and dirt and all things natural. In the dark the sensation of nature was violating. In the cold, I became scared. The tree monsters were upon me. Branches snapping, small coos from their monster children begging for attention. I must go home now. I couldn’t see the ground around me but still I ran. Ran as if there was something chasing me because I believed that there was. The field was hilly, wet and sometimes sandy. With each step my feet became colder and I still hadn’t reached home. I could no longer feel the grass or the sand or the wet. I slipped. I stumbled. My knees buckling, falling down a large grassy green hill. It was not a beautiful fall, nor a dramatic one. I imagine in the light it would have been simply embarrassing. I sat. Knees pressed to my chest, hands in the dirt. My knee was bleeding. I couldn’t see it but I knew it felt cold and wet too. And I sat there. At the bottom of the hill for just a while. No one was there to see me tumble, but I know I did. If a tree falls in the forest and no one sees, did it really fall? I guess I’m the tree, an inanimate witness to my own fear of the things you’re not supposed to be afraid of anymore. Anyways, I’m not a tree. So I went down to the grass. I felt ants crawling in my pajama shorts, up my neck, in my hair. It itched, but I didn’t. So I sat— grass on my ass. I wonder if this is what I had in mind for two decades of life. I looked for the moon one more time, she still didn’t show. I made my birthday wish — it’s always too hard to think that quickly when everyone is waiting for a piece of cake. I can’t tell you what it was but I closed my eyes and pressed my hand together until a coherent thought of desire formed — the universe needs good syntax too. I parted my hands and opened my eyes to more darkness. It was time to go. This time I turned a flash light on. I walked indoors. I looked down at my knees. I was never bleeding. It was only mud and maybe what would be a bruise tomorrow. But I smelled the blood. I swear.