It's 3 am. I wait patiently as drops of rain silently fall to rest in my warm hair. The night's serenity is interrupted by my sniffing every few seconds. I grip my shoulders and shiver. The tennis court is dark, the only light shines from my phone. Even though I've just scrolled through a hundred photos, I couldn't recount a single one if I was asked. I wait for the blood moon. I had researched the perfect spot. My camera swung slightly around my neck as I leaned against the metal fence. My Instagram feed is plagued by girls in pools and boys on sports fields. I acknowledge my jealousy of the four-digit numbers under the posts, but I would never let such a materialistic thing pollute my mind for too long. Besides, I was going to have the best shot of the moon. I glance up from my phone every few seconds and continue to scroll with my icy fingers. I had never wanted to be one of them before. I called them "too cools" and laughed at their grossly misapplied fake tans. But then, when everyone was looking for a formal date, they had one. Or two. A backup was required. When the time came, I had no one. I went with my cousin which I thought wouldn't be that bad until he had a little too much "punch" and propositioned one of my teachers. I shake my head remembering how mad she was. At me no less! I was angry too. It was at him at first, but then I realised I should really be angry at myself for letting my social status sink so low that I allowed such a thing to occur. I wasn't going to let that happen again. I was going to thread my eyebrows, find a better group at school and fix my Instagram feed and it was all going to start with this shot of the moon. I look up to see the same dark sky I was greeted with the last time I'd checked. I drop my eyes back down to my phone and refresh the app. The first picture stuns me. A picture of the moon. It was the blood moon. I desperately peer back up at the sky as if I missed it in the two seconds that I moved my gaze away. Suddenly, my timeline is filled with the same pictures. The pale red light from the photos beam upon my face as I let out a shaky, misty breath of disappointment. The soft rains become stronger, as if they are syncopated to my heart's frantic beats. I missed it. I had decided that this was my chance and I missed it. I wasn't going to make friends. I wasn't going to find my way, I was going to be doomed to a social life full of unwanted formal dates and weird cousins. It's 3 am and I'm angry and myself; but I'm furious with the moon.
Don't allow numbers to define you. There's no reason to be angry at the moon.