This world was never particularly kind.

People cry,
and the moon keeps shining.

People lose the ones they love,
and the stars continue to appear in the night sky
as if nothing ever happened.

Even on the nights when someone’s heart quietly breaks,
morning still comes.

The world does not stop for our pain.

And sometimes, the girl wonders:

“How can a world be so cruel…
and still be so beautiful?”

She sits among the old graves,
beneath a moon that seems almost close enough to touch.

She reaches for it sometimes.

But no matter how far she stretches her hands,
the moon remains beyond her reach.

Perhaps the human heart is like that, too.

Someone can sit right beside you
and still remain impossibly far away.

You can love someone
and still hurt them.

You can want to protect someone
and still be unable to save them.

You can want to forget
and still remember everything.

And there are nights
when even living feels unbearably heavy.

The girl knows those nights.

She doesn’t pretend that she doesn’t.

Two black cats sit beside her.

They don’t speak.

They simply stay.

One on each side of her,
watching the same moon.

Maybe words aren’t always necessary.

Maybe, when someone is hurting,
what they need most isn’t an answer.

Maybe they simply need someone who says,

“You don’t have to carry this alone.”

Not with a lecture.

Not with an explanation.

Just by staying.

Sometimes, presence is its own kind of prayer.

The girl looks toward the old cross standing behind her.

She doesn’t know exactly who placed it there.

Perhaps someone once came to this place after losing someone they loved.

Perhaps someone stood beneath this same moon
and asked God for an answer.

Perhaps someone simply needed a place
to leave a prayer that was too painful to say aloud.

The girl closes her eyes.

At first, she prays:

“Please take all the sadness away from this world.”

But then she stops.

She knows that life doesn’t always work that way.

Some wounds cannot simply be erased.

Some losses cannot be undone.

Some prayers are answered differently than we imagined.

So she changes her prayer.

“Then, God…
if You cannot take away everyone’s pain,
please don’t let the people who are hurting
believe that they have been forgotten.”

That becomes her deepest prayer.

Not that suffering will never exist.

But that no one will have to believe
they are completely alone inside it.

The moon above her is covered with scars.

Craters left behind by countless impacts,
preserved across unimaginable stretches of time.

And yet the moon remains beautiful.

The girl looks at it and thinks:

“Maybe people are like the moon.”

We carry our own craters.

Betrayal.

Loss.

Regret.

Loneliness.

Words that should never have been said.

People we loved but couldn’t keep.

Dreams that didn’t come true.

Moments when we tried our hardest
and still weren’t enough.

Those things leave marks.

Some wounds fade.

Others become part of who we are.

But having scars
does not mean that something has lost its beauty.

Sometimes,
the scars are exactly where the light finds us.

The girl lives in a sad world.

But she is not sadness itself.

She lives in a difficult world.

But she is not her suffering.

She lives in darkness.

But she is not the darkness.

She is still here.

Sitting beneath the moon.

Listening to the quiet breathing of two black cats.

Watching the distant lights of an old church.

And somewhere inside her,
there is still a tiny part of her
that believes tomorrow might be different.

Perhaps life was never meant to be
nothing but happiness.

There are days when we cry.

Days when we don’t want to talk to anyone.

Days when we don’t know what we’re doing anymore.

And there are nights when we quietly wonder
whether our existence has any meaning at all.

But even then,
time continues.

The Earth keeps turning.

The Moon keeps moving around the Earth.

The Earth keeps moving around the Sun.

And our entire solar system continues its journey
through a universe far larger than anything we can comprehend.

Even when we feel completely still,
the universe is not standing still.

Neither are we.

Somewhere beyond what we can see,
time is carrying us toward a future
we haven’t met yet.

That thought makes the girl smile.

Because the future has not happened yet.

It hasn’t been observed.

It hasn’t been written completely.

So perhaps she doesn’t have to decide tonight
how the rest of her life will end.

Tonight,
she can simply look at the moon.

She can hold one of the cats.

She can cry.

She can rest.

She can do nothing.

And if tomorrow comes,
she can take one more breath.

Then another.

Sometimes,
one more step is enough.

The girl looks up at the moon.

“Hey, Moon…”

“I wonder how many times you’ve been hurt.”

The moon doesn’t answer.

It never does.

It simply continues to shine.

Its light isn’t strong enough
to erase every sorrow in the world.

It cannot bring back everyone we’ve lost.

It cannot repair every broken heart.

But it can illuminate the ground
just a few steps ahead.

And maybe that’s enough.

Maybe the light we need
doesn’t always have to be as bright as the sun.

Maybe we only need enough light
to see where to place our next step.

Then another.

And another.

There is sadness in this world.

There is suffering.

There is loss.

There is loneliness.

There are things we cannot change,
no matter how desperately we wish we could.

But even here,

someone still loves someone.

Someone still reaches for another person’s hand.

Someone still makes a wish.

Someone still whispers a prayer
when no one else is listening.

And in that moment,

a tiny star appears in the darkness.

The girl is looking for those stars.

Not because she believes she can save the entire world.

Not because she has all the answers.

But because she wants to remember something.

Something simple.

Something sacred.

Even in a broken world,
beautiful things can still exist.

A rose growing beside an old grave.

A black cat sitting quietly beneath the moon.

An ancient cross standing against the night sky.

A prayer whispered into the darkness.

A girl who has been hurt
but is still here.

Maybe these things are not proof
that the world is perfect.

Maybe they are something more meaningful.

A reminder that brokenness
does not have to be the end of the story.

So tonight,
the girl remains beneath the moon.

She doesn’t need to be perfect.

She doesn’t need to be strong.

She doesn’t have to smile.

She can cry.

She can rest.

She can stop for a while.

Because the future is not something
we have to solve all at once.

We don’t have to turn tonight
into a verdict on tomorrow.

The moon disappears from the sky
only to return again.

Winter eventually gives way to spring.

The universe continues to change
over distances and times
we cannot even imagine.

And perhaps our lives are changing, too,
even when we cannot feel it happening.

The girl looks up one last time.

And quietly, she says:

“This world may be sad.
This world may be painful.
But I am still here.”

The words disappear into the night.

No thunder.

No miracle.

No voice from heaven.

Just the moon.

Just the stars.

Just two black cats beside her.

And somehow,
that is enough for tonight.

Because faith isn’t always knowing
what will happen next.

Sometimes,
faith is simply leaving a little room
for something we cannot see yet.

A little room for tomorrow.

A little room for healing.

A little room for love.

A little room for God.

And perhaps,
a little room for ourselves.

The moon says nothing.

The stars say nothing.

But the light remains.

Quietly.

Patiently.

As if to say—

You are still here.

And the story is not over yet.

心晴れるまで

土屋梨沙