Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login
Rain is murdering my window. The wind keeps sounding like a scream and it echoes in my head even after the trees stop casting spooky shadows on my wall. The water streaks the glass and races toward the bottom of the pane, I pick the underdog and I always lose. It's kind of hard to win against gravity. The lightening illuminates my bed and I can see my frame shaking in the storm. Pretty soon my eye lids are heavy and even sooner the sun is up and I slept through shakes and terror and being afraid my house would float away.  Afraid that the waters would rise to my second story and my daddy wouldn't hear me scream and worse he wouldn't come to rescue me if he did. When the sun rises in the morning I can never even tell that my bed was home to nightmares, cold sweats, and violent shakes, because, what other way would I child say, I'm scared?  When my eyes open and my window is dry and my walls are still purple, even though the night before, they held no color at all, it's even hard for me to hear the harsh breath that hummed me to sleep only hours ago.  I wake up and the succession of nights without screaming keep being exactly the same as the nights that made my throat sore. But storms stay the same even if no one comes to save you.
Rain keeps falling on my floor. It makes pitter patter noises like a small animal jumping up and down on the same area of wood. He's not going anywhere, but he's sure not leaving. He jumps repeatedly and makes a kind of song. I sit up in bed and look next to me at my Fiancé's figure underneath our thin covers. He sleeps through the noise as though a drum solo isn't being played out on our wood floor. I look from the drips of water and back to him and lie back down. Pulling myself into and around his back, burying my face in his shoulder. He groans and lets out a sigh. I shut my eyes and listen to his heart beat hum along with dropping water. Drip. Thud. Drip. Thud. Drip. Thud. Pretty soon my ears are hardly hearing anything at all. I think it's background noise, but who's to say I can hear it at all? My eye lids grow heavy and I can't hear because I'm not awake because I can't hear anything to keep me conscious. Does noise stay the same even if you block it out?
Rain is falling in the park. I can hear it on the roof of the car. I will always hear it on the roof of a car. This sound I could recognize anywhere, or maybe only here. I think I could hear it through anything, like car accidents and police officers, and lying boys, and useless evenings. It hits the roof of the car and the windows and the hood and the sound is hollow, like me. It sounds empty and beautiful, but I am only one of those. Warmth evades the important parts of me and wraps securely around the pieces I can't feel. I know there are other sounds and other adjective and more to recognize but all I can hear is rain. I close my eyes and listen intently and I can't even tell I'm not a part of it. It's hard to notice the difference between me and the rain. It's hard to feel the difference between the warm parts of me, and the parts he never touches. I feel the same underneath every car roof.
Rain keeps watering my grass. Where the sun used to live there are now grey monsters that roar and cry all over the earth. I used to waste so much water and make so many trips and my lawn was the best in the town. But, the rain has stolen my job. It's stolen my routine. I would walk outside and turn the knob and watch the green hose squirm as water raced through its center and fell out of its mouth and made my home vibrant. There were a hundred days that held this schedule, and then one day, there weren't. I looked out my window and watch the hose sit idly and I thought I felt its abandonment. Water fell from the sky in place of a rubber hose and a garden glove. The blades of grass filled and bent and twisted in the rain and seemed to miss me too. Until they were greener, and longer, and thicker, and pretty soon, if the rain ever died off, I'd be bringing out a mower, not a hose. But even sooner, I stopped looking at the grass, or the clouds, or the hose. I'm not even sure I thought to turn it on. Why would I ever do a thing like that? I didn't look out the window. I didn't listen to gravity and nature and precipitation taking its course. I just saw green grass. And grass will stay the same, no matter who waters it.
Rain is falling on my cheeks, and my nose, and my head. It is making me cold and drenched, but I cannot tell. I've been out too long to tell. I have been walking along busy streets, and bumping into busy people far too long to feel them bruise my arms. I keep falling down, but I've been falling far too long to feel the scrapes across my knees. Clumsiness is worn like clothing. I have been making many phone calls and hearing no reply for long enough to forget to whom I was trying to speak. After enough recordings, I think it's normal to speak to a machine, and ask it how its day has been. I've been sitting out and being chased and turning down and feigning pride long enough for me to believe it's truth. I think it isn't fear, I chose to be this way. I've been asking questions without answers forever, and what makes me think I'll start hearing voices that for once, have a clue? I've been seeing shadows and stepping underneath and moving over just enough to get by so much, I don't know that I would take the chance to see the sun again. I have been feeling tragedy for enough calendar marks to believe that everything is so much talk in the end. I have been missing a touch, or a smile, or attention so long that I know how to take any feeling I could see and find its root. And rip it out. Stare it in the face and watch it fear the world and crumble at the thought of being second best and smile at the mere image of a future. I can pull it from its resting place. I can tear it from its origin. And rip it to pieces, and find its heart and smile and say, you can get used to anything.
You tell me.
Though, to be honest with you, I probably won't care.
Or remember.
Or both.
orangecloudsraining Featured By Owner Oct 5, 2010  Student Writer
oh my goodness.
this is kinda sorta amazing. like.:heart:
beingabletobreathe Featured By Owner Oct 29, 2010
:) Thanks. I'm glad you think so.
Add a Comment:

:iconbeingabletobreathe: More from beingabletobreathe

More from DeviantArt


Submitted on
April 7, 2010
File Size
6.0 KB


2 (who?)