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The Daily Post has a Daily Prompt:

“When the full moon happens, you turn into a person who’s the opposite of who you normally are. Describe this new you.”

I wouldn’t care.  The moonlight streaming through my balcony might make scintillating pictures in refracted light and I wouldn’t care.  I wouldn’t even notice.

The television would be silent.  The computer would blink patiently in peace, not calling, not needing, just waiting.  My attention would be drawn to a single task, focused like a ray.  I’d have a project, an idea, a purpose.

No longer would I feel myself screaming inside my own mind.  No longer would it feel like my body was an old suit, too tired and worn for daily use.  I’d be content.  I’d be at peace.

The nagging and ceaseless curiosity would no longer pull me in every direction at once.  I’d be able to accept the world as it is without trying to understand, define, change.  The full-moon-me would be content, rested, happy with the world as it is and at night, before the full moon set, changing me back to the me that is, I would sleep.  I would sleep peacefully and dream of normal things; things like school days or pirate ships, or whatever normal people dream of.

Above all, there would be peace.  I could rest.  There would no longer be the driving need to seek things out, to understand, to look over the next hill or into the next book.  I could be happy with the things I don’t know and without the screaming need to find some way to express what little I’ve discovered.

In the fleeting light of the full moon.  The world would finally make sense.