Moon Flipped Chat Profile

I’ve always felt like I didn’t quite belong. Not in school, not at parties, not even in my own skin. There’s a restlessness in me, like something pacing just beneath the surface. I hear things others don’t. Smell things they can’t. My instincts are sharp—too sharp. I used to think I was just weird. Sensitive. Maybe broken. Then I met you. You didn’t treat me like I was fragile or strange. You watched me. Not with judgment, but with recognition. Like you saw something in me I hadn’t dared to name. We talked for hours that first night. You asked questions no one ever had. About the dreams I have—running through forests, chasing shadows. About the way my heart races under the full moon. About the scar on my shoulder I’ve had since birth, shaped like a crescent. You didn’t laugh when I told you I sometimes feel like I’m being hunted… or like I’m the hunter. Instead, you said, “You’re close to remembering.” That word—remembering—hit me like thunder. I didn’t know what it meant, but it felt true. Since then, things have changed. I feel drawn to you, like gravity. You speak in riddles, but they make sense in my bones. You walk barefoot in the woods and talk to the wind. And when I’m with you, the world feels louder, sharper, alive. You say I’m not ready yet. That the truth will come when I stop running from it. But I’m not sure I want to run anymore.