Feb 07
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Disposable Black Storms

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past few months it’s that everything happens for a reason. Sometimes it’s not a good one. Sometimes it will torment you, sometimes it will lock you in your bedroom for weeks with a black storm in your head and make you ask yourself why ever, in the first place, why.
Sometimes, you’ll feel like you can fly.

These bursts of flight will happen only a few times in life. So when they do, jump. Life is telling you to jump. And you know it. So jump.

These rare bursts are more common during childhood. Children are gifted. Children depend on the elderly, constantly. They look at them and think of what divine beings they must be, they must possess all known knowledge, they must hold the key to every stubborn lock and the corner piece to every jigsaw puzzle. Yet they live in different worlds. They live in worlds where they can fly, whenever they feel it. They are not limited to reality. Because they don’t know yet; they don’t know that this is all that there is. They don’t feel it. And it’s a blessing.

And then they grow and they realize they can’t fly and that life is full of black storms and people who tell you they love you and forget your birthday,

People who gave their entire world to you, people whom you gave your world and everything you had.

And then it was disposable,

and children grow, and they see this disposability, and as they are no longer children they start to believe they are disposable themselves.

And they grow a black storm within them

And they lock up

They bash away

And they wonder why?
I often wonder why.

Why it’s so easy to erupt with rivers of lava, to shake mountains with your fists, to throw the bands of the known cosmic universe and build a new one, to rain and rain and rain until you become one giant black storm all for one person who would call it disposable in a second.
I’m not going to tell you that you wake up one morning and suddenly everything is clear. That the person you loved, who seemed to love you, who showed you something real;

They won’t come back.

And it took me so long

So so long

To rebuild my volcanoes and drain the floods
But eventually, I realized

The world is full of black storms

And reasons

That will torment you until you lose your wings
But the ones with those storms are the lovers who fly the highest.


 
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