Relative Existence

I am the one who takes long walks in the rain when rumbling thunder rolls in, walking through quaint puddles, dancing through the ones that seemed to eat up more and more of the sidewalk, as more and more rainfall soaks the already satisfied soil. I like many others, find joy in sailing the seas, the salty air, raving waves and the sound of the harboring boats soothe me. The cawing of crows with their gallant black feathers reminds me of when I’d sit for hours, and ponder on the swing set near home during fall. Watching the purest of blue skies fade into a picture-perfect sunset. Ruffling the leaves. Quiet crunch underfoot, as I climb the hill leading back home. I bleakly mutter the rhyme my mother had once taught me, the one I had used to wish many wishes upon that first sparkling star that dotted the sky. I had once loved how the snow sprinkled down, each little snowflake, each one sophisticated and quite cold. 

But of course, all anyone would see was an aloof teen. Drenched in rain, resting on the dock of a sleepy harbor, swinging on a swing set all by their lonesome, gazing at the sky looking lost, and someone who had once stood alone in the frosty field.