My storm, your feelings, her resolve

Storm.

The cold wind blew mercilessly, whipping icy slashes at the lone figure standing in the empty street.

One person, in an entire jungle of buildings.

Rain fell. It fell in large endless sheets.

That person took one step forward.
And another.
And another.
And another.
And another.
And another.
And another.

Then the wind changed, and once again, that person was standing right where she started.

When it's raining, how do you tell which are rain fallen from the heavens, and which are tears, overflowing from the heart?

Too fast, the rain falls. If no one says a thing, the answer remains unknown.

Is the rain endless? Or are the tears endless? By yourself, there is no one to pass you an umbrella.

The thunder makes its presence made. The glass in the buildings shiver with the force of the sound. Lightning flash.

Right now, if she knew the building beside her was about to collapse, she would have stood there and let it fall on her.

Slowly. Almost unnoticeably.
The rain stops.



The wind dies down.

All is quiet.

For a while, the only sound anyone can hear is the sound of her breath, and the drip of rain from the buildings.

Then, she takes one step forward, tentatively.
She puts another in front.
She takes a step.
She walks out of that street.

The only sounds you hear are the steady tap-tap-tap as she walks out of the shadow of that building in that street of that city, and into sunlight, where a car is waiting.

The storm has died.
But you need to walk out of the self-torture with your own will.

Nothing is worth dying for.
The pain will not stop when death comes. The pain will continue, in others.

That person has reached the car. Voices from within shout out gaily in welcome, "hey, what took you so long to come?"

I'll come pick you up when you decide to walk out. (: Don't worry, I'll always stand by your side.

My storm,
Your feelings,
Her decision.

I find that blogging in times of agony is rather annoying. I keep wondering if what I say hurts too much or something. -.- And it's my agony, so don't worry.

Ah, happy birthday, DaJie. :D The first of us to be 18. :D