Have you ever been outside in the first phase of a storm? The time where the wind picks up its pace and the clouds crumble and grumble and lightning sends out its fiery, blue veins into the sky, bathing an apocalypse in the loneliest and loveliest shade of violet? Violent, eh. Not so much. The drama just begins unfolding.
I like to believe that's how my wicked emotions are. The train of my thoughts running, faster and faster, gaining speed with every passing moment. I don't need to worry. It will derail soon enough.
Storms have always been my thing. My mind succumbs to the calm before the chaos. The wind engulfs my tired bones and pulls me away from despair. I want to fly. Or better still, scatter into infinite pieces and float away, akin to cherry blossoms. That would be beautiful. The sky, I know, would hold all of me. The wind, I know, would embrace every bit of me.
My mind is a whirlwind. A tumultuous sphere of whimsical thoughts. Loneliness and solitude do not go together. And yet, I want to be less lonely and at the same time, keep my solitude intact.
Storms are privy. They find a way through rickety windows and those little spaces between doors and floors. They find their way through a person too. From sending prickles of fear down the spine of some to filling the adrenaline of exhilaration in the bones of some others, storms do it all. They will make you break down your walls and at the same time, you'll have second thoughts. "Should I build a stronger one, this time around?"
I will tell you, don't. How many times have you hid behind walls that are nothing but mortar and stone? Most of them are hollow. Nothing really lies in that thin space within a wall. Only shards of broken hopes and broken promises and broken dreams and a broken spirit. Or maybe, remnants of haunting melodies and unsaid words and forgetten memories. Too fragile. Too easy to break through.
So, this time around, let the storm wreck you. Meanwhile, I'll go back to watching one as it rages through my world.