Moon River
drifting through thoughts, one story at a time
Category: Moon’s Stories
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What does it mean to live a well-lived life? For a long time, I thought it was about having answers. About certainty. About knowing where you’re going and why. But lately, I’m beginning to think it’s something softer, braver, and far more human than that. Maybe a well-lived life is allowing yourself to keep becoming.…
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In ancient Greece, there’s a story about strangers who meet by accident, not as lovers, not as fated soulmates, but as two travelers whose paths cross for only a moment. They share a handful of words, exchange a fragile understanding, then continue on their separate roads. Yet somehow, the memory of that encounter lingers longer…
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How do you define happiness? For centuries, philosophers tried to answer that question. Aristotle believed happiness (eudaimonia) wasn’t a feeling at all, but a lifelong practice of becoming the best version of ourselves. Epictetus taught that happiness begins the moment we stop trying to control things outside of us. Marcus Aurelius said it’s found in…
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Lately, I’ve been thinking about death. Not in the way that spikes fear into your chest or keeps you awake at night. It’s softer than that. More like a quiet hum in the background of my days. A steady, unignorable awareness that all of this; this body, this laughter, these nights spent tracing the stars…
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There are people who walk into your life not to stay, but to awaken something within you, and Hao was one of them. He came quietly, like the start of a song I didn’t know I’d come to love so deeply. The kind of soul who doesn’t realize how gentle he is, how deeply he…
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Last night, I dreamt of you. We were on a road trip somewhere, no destination, no plan, just the rhythm of tires meeting the earth, and the sound of a song neither of us bothered to name. The air was warm, the windows rolled down, and for the first time in a long while, you…
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There’s a strange kind of quiet that comes after someone you love drifts away, not the kind you hear, but the kind you feel. The silence between us has stretched so far now that I sometimes forget where it began. Yet even here, in the stillness, I still find myself longing for your existence. I…
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I’ve been turning our story over in my head, and somehow I always circle back to Simon and Betty. Their love was messy, complicated, and imperfect, but it was also undeniable, a force so strong that it survived time, curses, and universes. Simon carried Betty in his every breath, and Betty, no matter how much…
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What does it mean to be at peace with your past? Is it silence? Is it forgetting? Is it forgiveness? Or is it something else? something quieter, harder, more profound? I think of this one boy when I ask this. He’s only 19 yet the stories he carried is heavier than most adults. The boy…
Moon River 