The rain continues to pour down thunderously. I hesitantly look out. The most panoramic view stares right back at me. The rain seems to have bestowed, showered this freshness onto everything it touches. I wish I could run into the rain so it would bring back the life in me. I’m in a self imposed exile, running away from problems, people and life in general.
The leaves that were dead once upon a time seem alive now. They sway and dance about, rejoicing at the power of the rain. The wind rushes through them, making them smile. I step out. The waves of rain, dance lightly on my skin, making me tremble. A cool breeze hits my face, making my hair fly. I want to fly too. I want to believe. I want inspiration. And I want this rain to make me alive too. Something. Anything.
Why this enlivening rain can’t make me happy anymore, I wonder as I fall to the grass. Not wanting to trudge back indoors, into the darkness, I lie down, breathing in the heady scent of the rain, melting into the ground, merging with the mud, to give this intoxicating vapour.
My thoughts, unknowingly, wander to you. To you, and all that you did. Doubts and guilt crawl into my mind, with a view to destroy. I try to resist the attack, I try to fight back, but I’m weak. I crumble. And soon, my tears too merge with the mud.
When I think of you, I feel no pain. That’s a good thing. But there isn’t any happiness either. Which I think is a bad thing. So I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong or what’s right. I don’t know anything that has anything to do with you anymore. I don’t even know what to do, or what to think of you anymore.
Everything is still now. I don’t know if this is the lull before the real storm, or if the storm has already passed. Nothing moves anymore. Everything is still, just like me. The scene has changed to a dark, murky and gloomy one. There is a certain uneasy calmness, almost sinister, that rests above, ready to break any moment. And so I continue to live in fear.