Moonglow Read Online Free

Jess purrs. “Attach your mind to its vibration and agree to become a passenger on its journey toward happiness.”
    Maybe it’s the combination of fake voice and crazy babbling, but part of me thinks she’s talking sense. That she chose those words specifically because I needed to hear them as I set out on a new journey. Maybe she’s legit. A true Yoga guru who can transcend earthly shackles and see into the great beyond. Maybe she knows what I’ve been hiding from everyone, that I’m really very unhappy.
    Could she know me better than I thought she did? She is my best friend, after all, and we’ve been close since before kindergarten. But does she truly know that I’ve been faking it lately? I’ve been acting like my normal self, when for some reason I’ve felt isolated and alone and uncomfortable even in places where I used to feel safe. Does she sense that I could use some guidance because I’m scared of losing my way permanently? Or wait . . . is she just having fun at my expense? When I hear her cackles bounce off my blank walls, I know my last thought is the correct one. It was all a joke.
    That’s when I hate her. I don’t know if my expression is a perfect illustration of my emotions or if Jess can read my mind, but she knows how I feel.
    â€œWhat is wrong with you?” she asks.
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œOh stop lying!” she whines. “You got that look on your face again, Dom, like you want to rip somebody’s throat out.”
    Again? So she has noticed.
    â€œI mean seriously, I just gave you the bra off my back,” she says. “Tell me what’s going on.”
    How do I tell her what’s going on when I don’t understand it myself? I’m not a violent person; I’m not someone who gets off on insulting others, bullying them just so I can feel good about myself. But lately that’s how I’ve been feeling, like I want to lash out physically and emotionally at everybody around me. The feeling comes over me unexpectedly and for no reason at all. Like right now. All I want to do is tell Jess that she needs to go on a diet because she’s getting fat and that her blond roots are showing and her dyed black hair looks phony and ridiculous. Then I want to shake her hard and convince her that she has got to buy that Proactiv stuff online and have it delivered overnight because her face is breaking out again.
    How can I share this with her? How can I even be thinking these thoughts about my best friend, the girl who I consider a sister? It’s terrible and, worse than that, it’s unlike me. I’m no angel, but I’m not a terrible person, but lately . . . lately I feel like I’m changing, and I have absolutely no idea why or how to stop it. But I can’t share this with Jess. I can’t share this with anyone, so I keep it to myself and make up an excuse.
    â€œSorry. You know how grouchy I get when I have my period.”
    â€œDom, you must be having the longest period on record,” Jess says, not really believing me.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” I ask.
    â€œYou’ve been acting like a weirdling for months now,” she admits. “Not just a few days at a time. Are you sure it’s nothing else? You know you can tell me anything.”
    I do know that, but something’s preventing me from speaking. Something is preventing me from being honest with my friend, and I don’t know what it is. It’s like someone has put a plastic bag over my mouth; I’m trying to scream, I’m trying to get somebody to hear me, anyone, but every attempt fails. Every time I open my mouth I just suck back my own breath and swallow it so it can reinfest my body, and each time I swallow it’s making it harder and harder to breathe. Harder and harder to live. And harder and harder to look Jess in the face, so I turn away.
    â€œTrust me, if it were something big and dramatic, I would