The Storm and I
There’s something about watching the rain, cascading down upon us all in angry tears, that mesmerizes me to great lengths. It’s almost beautiful, almost sincere. I could stare at it and not realise the time pass by. I watch it pour as I make my way home to the confines of my own personal prison, the confines of my bed. As I watch the drop hit the glass, I can’t help but feel a connection, to a time not long ago. I remember how I used to let it pour, where my tears never ran out.
I was angry, sad, numb yet overpowered by the need to want this pain to stop and torn between wanting to just will myself away unto the next birth. With the lashes of lighting in the form of reality I received from beauteous friends, and the thunder that I heard from them whenever I reached a new low than the time before, I still found it hard to fully part, detach and restart my cycle of what should have been the calm after the storm. The storm had taken me, I couldn’t part with the pain, the misery. It had swallowed me whole. I was an alien in my own body, a mass that lived for the sake of living, and I couldn’t make sense of the person I had become. Everyday was a battle against myself, a debate on life or death, sanity or anarchy.
But now, as I look forward, I see the rain hit the windscreen, a drop heavier than the last, and as the wipers wipe it away swiftly, I can now connect to it. My pain is slowly but definitely being swept away. Wherever it has faded to, I don’t miss it, I don’t mourn it. I smile that it has finally left me and moved on, with the rainbows making an appearance, dazzling with colour formed out of thin air. The calm is approaching, the sun is dawning through the dark clouds that threatened to break me and tear me to pieces.
And I, I feel safe, warm and overcome with a feeling I find hard to describe.
Like a single ray of sunshine, you shine down on me. Flirting with the colours of the rainbow, you bring me the purple that fills up my life. For you I’m thankful. To you, I give my love.