The Storm
I never knew just how much power a single storm had. I used to have a friend called Sky, eyes gray, and white shining smile. I used to be scared of the rain. I know, right?
What a funny thing to be scared of, what a silly fear.
Did you know that one in five hundred thousand people get struck by lightning? Never thought I'd say this, but Sky was right. I really am one in a million.
I was looking up when the first thunderbolt struck.
That first time I remember clearly, as it made me go blind. “This is a one time mistake, ignore it for now” said my hopeful mind, all while ignoring the tears running down a newly made scar.
Eternal sunshine Sky'd always promise, but his promises were made of rubber bands. Stretch them too much and it will just SNAP! No warning at all. A hurtful surprise.
I wondered how everyone loved Sky so much, was it his eyes? Or shiny smile? I wanted to be Sky’s ocean of pure water, though somehow ended up being regarded as no more than a sad drizzle of rain. I helped him through stormy nights, dusk to dawn. Exhausted. That's how I felt. Drained. Drowned. But he still saw me as no more than a drizzle of rain.
I wondered whether Sky felt as drained as I did. After hours of crying, and dying, and lying, there must be a shock, a boom! A pom! Because in no time he’d be happy, full of life.
Even in the midst of my own dark storms I always remembered Sky was still my person and I would never want to hurt his sky. On his sky he showed his feelings, love and pain. Despite his storms I couldn't storm away. I learnt to dance in the rain but be careful to not trip, cause one single bad drop could make me forget how to swim.
Was the rain bad though? I was his soft rain, always staying with him through the storms. I turned the rage in his sky into a rainbow, turned the red rage in his eyes into happy shades of yellow. So maybe Sky meant good when seeing me as rain, after all he needed me and wanted me to stay.
The last storm I remember of Sky’s he spat words full of bitterness and slapped me once or twice. I tried being gentle, soft, but it's impossible to not crack egg shells on slippery floors. For the first time, his storm felt nothing but ...warm?
Either Sky was hot or I'd gone cold.
Id gone cold.
I realised then that the Sky I saw in front of me was not the sky that fought, I was up in the sky far, far away from the Sky I once knew. Id be mistaken to think I was free though. Free of the problem, but trauma still stands, my hair still feels wet from time to time.