I curse dawn, for it has cursed me first. Dawn has trapped me in the solar system where the Sun forever veils my luminescence. 

Ellen is the Sun. She provides warmth to them, the people of Earth, yet she steals my spotlight. She enchants them to revolve around her, yet I cannot help but revolve around them. She stars in every show, yet I crave to be noticed. She burns all who hurt her, yet I allow their whispered slanders to tread over my peeling flesh. 

I cannot burn anyone with my nonexistent heat. Every side of her is seen and loved by them, yet I only exhibit one side of myself and even that sometimes goes unnoticed. They claim to want to see my invisible side, but I do not believe them. Her radiant smile is the reason they open their eyelids. My dull smile bores them, so they shut their eyelids. She shines carefree as to what they think of her, but I cannot allow myself to escape darkness. I am bound by an unanswered question: what would they think of me if I became my own light source?

I am the moon. I yearn for their love, but I have yet to learn to accept myself. I alter myself throughout the month, with only one goal: earn their love. I reflect Ellen’s light increasingly as I wax my imperfection. I mirror her light on my exposed side one night of the month. They still lie silent and snoring. They never see me, even when I am most like her. I lose faith in myself. My strength wanes with my reflection of Ellen’s light, and I gradually give up on earning their approval. I am a captive of this monthly cycle, but no matter how bright I shine, Ellen outshines me. As I repeat these steps, I grow weaker. I do not know if I can grasp life in Ellen’s shadow any longer, so I gradually detach. They will not miss me; they will not notice my absence. Maybe if I drift far enough away, their lack of love for me will cease to thrust tears on my face. 

One might believe since I curse dawn, I dote over dusk. One could not believe a larger lie. I abhor dawn and dusk just the same. Dusk drags my pleading body to the sky every night while I scream. Not a single star or planet hears me. 

I crawl through my orbit, and I start obscuring Ellen’s light to them. They must see me, not her. I steel myself for Ellen’s fiery wrath. Her golden eyes overflow with tears. “Thank you.” Shock storms my body. Studying her, I let whispered words flee my quiet lips. “What do you mean? I eclipsed your beauty.” Ellen grievously chuckles. She replies, “No-you saved me. Do you not hate their criticism?” I peer at her bewildered, but then I hear the screams below me. “I never realized how many craters you have!” “I hate how your shadows form!” 

Embarrassment. 

Shame. 

I gaze down, clarity unfolding before me. 

Dawn mutilates Ellen too. It deposits me as the object of her envy while it sets her up as mine. Dawn yanks the edges of Ellen’s lips upward every day. She longs for the freedom I own. Her reasoning: their drowsy eyes are blind to my tears. If salt water droplets cause her to cloud behind white puffs, they scold her for her absence. “We need a sunny day!” The words they holler petrify Ellen. She realizes she will acquire love only if she shines like a jewel. She

amplifies her counterfeit fire with diesel for their adoration. They maim her still, yelling, “You’re burning us! How could you?” They forget they once polluted her sky with demands for her to dazzle brightly. They forget they are to blame. Ellen, muffled by the censored sobs subduing her, cannot understand, for she obeyed their command. Dawn asserts that Ellen’s smile will authenticize if she fakes it long enough, so she keeps trying to achieve something real, dazzling brighter day by day. My battered brain cannot comprehend how they lustfully gaze at Ellen day by day, praising dawn for throwing her here. 

Ellen looks at me taking pity, but willingly accepts her place again as I drift back into my own. Despite the pain, she misses them. 

Scarlet gushes from the stab wound obscuring her heart; it is the same scarlet spewing from the stab wound obscuring my heart. The same knife has impaled us. Dawn and dusk own this knife. Dawn chained Ellen to a plastered beaming smile after stabbing her. Dawn then handed the knife over to dusk, who stabbed me before yanking me into Ellen’s shadow. I cannot hate Ellen because we have survived the same siblings. 

Dawn and dusk. I yearn to bind the siblings’ unmarred hands and throw them into darkness. Dawn and dusk will bear my pain. Ellen yearns to torch them with her fire. Dawn and dusk will bear her pain. 

As my anger toward dawn and dusk swells, I gradually realize if I thrust dawn and dusk into the darkness, I will remain miserable. It will guilt me. 

Dawn and dusk aim to shatter Ellen and I. They fail. They expect my bitterness to maim others, but I have escaped the cycle in which broken people break people. I have not escaped my regular monthly rhythm, but instead of continuing it out of envy, I do so in honor of Ellen by reflecting her wondrous light on my body. I cannot know if Ellen will torch dawn and dusk, but I know I will not abandon the siblings in the darkness, regardless of their evil. I cannot escape dawn and dusk’s chains, but they cannot darken my soul.