The Boy In A Thunderstorm.

Do you ever feel like you’re freefalling and everything and everyone you’ve ever known or loved is just slipping past your fingertips as you desperately try to regain control?

Cause that’s what I feel like.

I feel like everyone else’s life cycle resembles that of a raindrop, a slow steady fall where they can be lifted and spun around by wind’s encompassing embrace; I feel like a bolt of lightning.

Screams out, dashing down to the ground as quickly as possible

But in all actuality it’s my impact that hits first before they hear my words.

By the time I gather the strength to cry out it’s already happened.

The only thing left is a memory of the scream and maybe an afterimage if you were looking at me.

..it’s all very, brief.

Short lived.

By the time you blink me out of your eyes it’ll be like I never was.

A tiny mark on the ground for where my body landed.

And even this will be washed away in time by the rain I call my friends.

For isn’t that what rain does?

Washes away and purifies?

Though if we go with that

Does that not mean by proxy I was impure?

And if I was impure how does that speak of those who came before me?

The brief bolts of lightning who seared themselves into my brain leaving only a brief afterimage in my memories

A little mark.

Perhaps that is why lightning is forked?

So we can revisit the spots of those who came before

And those who will come again.

Perhaps that is also why the rain resembles teardrops,

they both came from the same place but took different fates

and still the rain will linger as dew drops until it yet too drops,

Just like i did

Only slower.

I cannot conceive which to be the worse fate

That of the rain

Or the one that I take.

.

Well my ear thing fixed itself but now I’ve come down with a cold two days before a commercial audition, really hope it clears up in time or there’s minimal chance I’ll actually get the part. Ugh, why world? Why?

C.C.

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