Sometimes i feel like we're all just puppets hanging, waiting to be tousled by the face of a full moon. My reasons may not be generally rational, my logic may be off, but think about it. All those crazy stories you have to tell. All those unexplainable moments that are sitting at the peak of the mountain tops on your brain's history graph, waiting for answers. the ones that end with a quick but reassuring glance at a big, full moon lingering right above you, carrying a taunting smirk. Or maybe it ended like mine did tonight, not quick, but sitting down watching the big thing slowly float down after crazy impossible early morning hours. I just stared at it. As if it had narrated my whole evening, and i was just a character in its story. In all honest realizations, only something so hauntingly beautiful could carry such a secret. Anyway, that's my Full Moon Theory.