Thunderstorms

When we began, he was a shower of snowflakes, but I was the entire blizzard.

When we broke into hatred, he was just a sidewalk cracked in the rumble of my earthquake.

When I fell in love, he was the first spark, but I was the roaring forest fire.

When he shattered my heart, he filled the sky with raindrops, and from his cloud I grew into a hurricane.

And now that he’s gone, I’ve been able to see myself for who I really am: I am the thunderstorm, made up of clouds of fun beginnings; sprinkles and splatters of hatred; deafening cracks of pain; and shining bolts of love.

Maybe the world is full of disasters, but maybe, even more so, it is full of the chance for blue skies.

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Reasons

Reasons

I know why the sky is blue, but not why I fell in love with the boy with sky blue eyes. 

I know why a bird can fly, but not why some people leave and some people choose to stay. 

I know why the ocean moves in waves, but not why my dreams drowned the day I couldn’t find the air to fight my panic attack. 

I know how the earth came to be, but not why I came to be a writer and a runner. 

I know the grammatical rules of the English language, but not how to explain how much I love some of the people who have planted themselves on my planet — the trees supplying my oxygen. 

I know why 2 and 2 make 4, but not why I can’t figure out what I want to be when I grow up. 

I know how a car starts and runs, but not which destination to plug into the GPS of my life. 

I know why the body needs sugar and fat, but not why an eating disorder rampaged my life for years. 

I know why phobias exist and why our bodies respond with fight or flight, but not what journey my fears and sadness are taking me on. 

And I know why a glass will shatter if I drop it, but not why I pour myself into people who end up breaking my heart.

Reasons II

Sometimes we know what we know, sometimes we can find the answer, sometimes all we can do is yell into the abyss, “give me a reason why” and hope we get a response one day.