As he sits on a cliff, watching the setting sun in front of him as if it were a movie, he begins to wonder. When did this beautiful, blinding star become the bane of his existence? As a child, he was Icarus. The sun was his friend, his companion, and his joy. He used to wish it would stay a little longer, that daylight savings wouldn’t exist as it stole some of his precious daytime. He spent his days playing in the street with his neighbors, despising the moment the streetlights flashed on. Then he grew up and neighbors moved away. The sun lost its appeal; instead of bringing childhood memories and enjoyment, it now only brought sunburn and sweat. Just as Icarus did, he falls.
Now he craves the moon. The darkness gives him a cover, a place to hide. With the moon comes peace, but how much peace is too much? He sits in his room, day after day, wishing for the joy that the sun brought to return. He misses the days that he spent outside, the days with no worries to dwell on or future to plan. These days are gone, never to return. As he swings his legs, staring at the water below, he wonders if things could have been different. In another life, maybe he never lost his love for the sun. Maybe the sun became his shield just as the moon did in this one. The defender of his dreams, both in consciousness and unconsciousness. He takes a breath. Maybe in another life.
For now, he will live contently in the presence of the moon. He will admire the stars and watch the planets rotate like a DVD in its player, but he will no longer sit back and observe his life as he does the setting sun. The childhood the sun brought him can never be returned, but he can make new memories with the moon. He can fly once again.
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