I move into town as quite as an assassin on a mission. To say that my usage of words is an exaggeration is an understatement. But the chaotic brain which will store these little soon-to-be-past moments of mine seems to be enjoying itself; so no complaints are made.

It is past midnight then.

Vividly hanging like the head of an martyr, the moon covers itself in a shade of blue. Maybe it's a bit down, for the moon has always seems a little too pale in comparison to its sibling - the sun. But then again, that isn't fair for anyone to size them up; as one's job is to just simply swim in an ocean of sparkles whilst the other's to provide light for the living. It is those differences that divides them in eyes of mortals. It's what makes them the moon and the sun. Both are beautiful and alluring in separate ways.

In fact, none is comparing them to each other. None excepts for the moon itself. So let it continue to be sad and keeps hating on its own, like a teenage girl who cries to herself about insecurities which are actually her unique features.

And there I stand, bathing in the pale blue moonlight, finding a nonsensical story which I made up myself to be relatable.

The same light that once guided famous novelists to their suicides is then showing me the path to my new place.

Just the mere thought of that way to approach reality revokes my skin. And then there it goes. One eerie image leads to another. Perhaps I should have shut my subconscious mind up way earlier.

The damn nightmarish creature to be made fresh off my mind comes a bit too close to reality. At the end of the hallway he stands. The dead man with a black and blue face. His body half exposed through the torn clothes; and where there are skin, there are cuts piled up one after another. His blood keeps pouring out from all of those open wounds. But the cause of this man's dead was not from bleeding, not even internally.

He stares at me, hollowly.

It takes me more than a moment to snap out of the hallucination and back to reality. I am back to the fact that there are belongings to be packed into a new home, also a foreign day to start at a new school in the soon-to-come hours.

Damn what alcohol can to do a sinner's head. A girl clearly should not have drank more than she can handle in a parting party with friends.

Thank gods that Daguo was more then willing to take the burden of giving me a piggyback - all the way from the hall to my door, on top of driving me kilometers after kilometers.

He had always been a saint in disguise - one to come saves me in times of need and also to blame on. He was always there.

For tonight, Daguo was here too but  only the shadow of what once was. The man must be hiding behind his walls, too afraid to face reality in the shell of me. And so Daguo left without saying anything, not even a goodbye. I listened to the fading sounds of his footsteps; up until there is nothing more to be heard other than the beating of one's sinking heart.

But no matter what we had back then, I have packed everything into a box tucked away safely along with my past.

A change of place is also a change of life. A hopeful new start that I've been whole-heartedly wishing for.