My fifth and most painful work, Moonbeam, was written from a place of complete despair and heartbreak for someone who was supposed to be my beam of light, yet only left me in the darkness. With no specific sections, these words convey sadness, longing and anger over the span of twenty-seven pages.

“I am used to being called selfish. No will ever understand why this is, or why what seems selfless to me is taken as selfish to them. Would you like an apology, for me to feel regret for never giving pieces of myself to everyone I know? Should I keep apologizing, even after I’ve given all of me away, even after I am empty? Should I keep apologizing then?”

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