Night Discovery (Safe)

You hold me again. In your arms. The rain is pouring even harder now, coming down like warm, wet paint splattering our arms and faces until we're drenched in it. Lightning strikes as thunder rolls in and you just hold me closer, as if doing so will protect me. 

Everyone else has left. When the first lightning struck—coming down like purple mist on the water—they all climbed down from our perch and ran off the beach. I was going to go with them, until you whispered in my ear, "Stay up here, we'll be safe."

I feel safe when we're like this.

I wipe the water from my face, but the rain replaces it just as quickly. It's so scary up here, and I think my anxiety is going to get the better of me, but you squeeze my shoulder and tell me it'll be fine. And I believe you. Why wouldn't I?

I feel safer when we're like this. 

You lean up against the back of the lifeguard stand, and take me with you. I'm hesitant to oblige, but then you whisper, "Hey, you're going to be okay. I'm here," and I just melt back into your arms. 

It hasn't stopped yet, but I don't really think I want the storm to cease. I've been convinced that the lightning won't strike us up here, and the thunder won't touch us. I don't want to go back to normal life and go to bed and continue on without you holding me like this. 

I feel safer when we're like this. I feel like I could brave the whole world without knowing what it's like. You destroy all the thoughts spinning around in my head, and all the problems that stab at every single part of my heart. Now that I know what it's like for you to wrap you hands around me, protecting me from this summer storm, I don't want to ever let you go. 

I don't want to lose you. Everyone in my life leaves me at the times I need them the most. They drop me like I'm a rock and they kick me down the street. I'm just another thing weighing them down. Do I weigh you down? Do you cringe every time I open up and wish you were some place else? Do you care about me like I want you to?

I think you care. 

I hope it rains next Thursday when we're climbing up the rungs of the lifeguard stand again. I hope I panic when the thunder screams at this world, and the sky cries her tears down, and the lightning's excited that you'll hold me again. I hope you squeeze my hand when I get a little too scared and you brush the sand from the wood so we can sit down (and you can hold me again.)

I feel safe with you.

"Me too."