LunarrBlogs

 There was a new classmate named Nancy. She came in halfway through the year, soft-spoken but sharp, with eyes that noticed more than she said. For a while, it felt like maybe she understood the silence I was carrying. We didn’t talk much, but when we did, it felt like breathing. Like someone else knew how heavy things had gotten. I kept showing up. I worked hard—not because I was okay, but because I didn’t know what else to do. School became a kind of anchor, something I could control when everything else felt like it was slipping. I poured myself into assignments, into routines, into trying to stay afloat. And I made new friends. Or at least, I thought I did. We laughed, shared notes, sat together during breaks. It felt good, for a while. Like maybe I was rebuilding something. But when things got hard again—when the grief crept back in, when I needed someone to sit with me in the quiet—they didn’t stay. They didn’t ask. They didn’t see. So I stopped expecting anyone to. I stopped...

  We’ve quietly crossed 160 views. No fireworks, no filters—just a moment of real gratitude. Thank you to everyone who’s read, paused, or felt something here. LunaBlogs isn’t about chasing numbers, but every view reminds me that someone out there saw a piece of truth and stayed with it for a moment. That means more than I can say. Here’s to gentle growth, honest storytelling, and showing up even when it’s hard. —Luna

  LunaBlogs just reached 150 views, and I want to say thank you. This space was never about going viral—it’s about truth, survival, and connection. Knowing that 150 people showed up, even briefly, means more than I can explain. I appreciate every view. Every quiet reader. Every person who paused here. Thank you for being part of the Star community. -Luna

  I went into 2024 hoping for something better. I thought maybe this would be the year things felt lighter, that I’d feel more seen, more understood. Instead, it turned into the worst year of my life. People I was close to got sick. Some of them passed away. It was hard to process, and even harder to talk about. I didn’t know how to carry that kind of grief, especially while everything else kept moving like nothing had changed. Then my best friends left the school. No warning, no proper goodbye. Just gone. The people who made things feel okay weren’t there anymore, and suddenly everything felt different — colder, quieter, harder. I cried myself to sleep a lot. I stopped sharing because I didn’t know how to explain what I was feeling. I waited for the year to end, hoping the next one would be softer. I didn’t grow or glow or heal. I just survived. And right now, that’s all I can say. I’m still here. That has to count for something.

  I didn’t bake. I didn’t write. I didn’t glow. I cried myself to sleep more times than I admitted. I watched the days blur past like pages I couldn’t read. I waited for 2024 like it was a rescue boat — hoping it would carry me somewhere gentler. There were no grand gestures. No healing rituals. Just me, lying in bed, wondering if being overlooked meant I was invisible. But here’s the quiet truth: Even when I felt like nothing was happening, something was . I was surviving. I was feeling. I was learning how to sit with the ache without rushing to fix it. And maybe that’s what Luna does too — not always glowing, but staying lit enough to say: “I’m still here.” So if 2023 felt like a cloud that forgot how to rain, maybe 2024 is the year I learn to dance in the dry spell. Not because the storm passed, but because I did.

  2023 felt like a cloud that forgot how to rain. There was this boy — sweet, familiar, maybe too familiar. He liked my friend. But here’s the twist: she didn’t like him back . And me? I liked him quietly. The kind of like that curls behind your ribs and hopes no one notices… while secretly hoping someone does. I waited to see if maybe, just maybe… he’d notice me instead. But his heart was already floating in someone else's direction — even though that boat wasn’t going to dock. And so the triangle tilted, not painfully, but awkwardly. Like a dance no one had practiced. Nobody did anything wrong. No one betrayed anyone. But it still stung. Not because I lost something, but because I almost had something. Because my friend didn’t want him. Because he didn’t want me. And I didn’t know what to do with the leftovers of a crush that had nowhere to land. So I did what Luna does: I let it glow through me. I didn’t fake feelings. I didn’t accept a Valentine I didn’t want. I d...

  It began in 5th grade—when school felt like a secret garden of crushes, laughs, and tiny heartbreaks. That’s when I met him . My first crush. Handsome, kind-eyed, and effortlessly cool in the way only 5th-grade magic can be. 💛 Every day felt like a spark. I swore he looked at me different. Thought he saw the same light I felt when I saw him. But crushes are tricky. Turns out he had feelings—just not for me. He liked someone else. Someone he thought was my friend. She wore kindness like perfume, sweet and convincing... but just a few weeks ago, I saw through it. A sly fox 🦊, with sharp smiles and careful lies tucked into compliments. Still, my heart lingered. To make things even messier, another classmate asked me to be their Valentine. I said no. He was just a classmate, really—not someone my heart fluttered for. I didn’t want to pretend. Didn’t want to say yes just because it was sweet or easy. I chose honesty. Even when it was quiet. Even when it meant watching someone ...

  It started in 5th grade — when giggles felt like confessions and a single glance could rewrite your whole day. 💛 That’s when I met him . My first crush. Cute, handsome, soft-spoken with just enough mystery to make me look forward to class. Every moment near him was a little heart race — like a secret that belonged only to me. I thought maybe, just maybe, he saw me the same way. Until I found out he had a crush on someone else… someone he thought was my friend. She had the smile, the charm, and a way of slipping into the spotlight. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I even tried to root for them. But just a few weeks ago, I saw the truth: she wasn’t the friend I believed she was. A sly fox 🦊 wrapped in soft laughter and calculated kindness. It didn’t erase what I felt. I still liked him. I still remember how bright he made the hallways feel. But it marked the beginning of something deeper — learning to protect my heart and see people clearly, even if it takes time. Luna...

  I won’t be posting on this X account anymore — it’s become a bit too much work for me, and I’m learning to honour my energy better. 💫 You’re still welcome to follow me here, especially if you like gentle vibes and updates from Luna… but I won’t be sharing new posts going forward. If you’re looking for inspiration, affirmations, or creative updates, you can always find me on Instagram instead 🦋 That space is blooming beautifully, and I’d love to have you there. Thank you for understanding and being part of this journey with me Luna💫