I have to admit, when the rains began and the thunder rumbled, I was almost ecstatic! I’ve always love storms. There’s something almost sensual about them. As the winds grew from a puff to a whoosh to a blistering howl, I could feel the need to go stand in the middle of the road and let the wind caress me and let the battering rain soak me!
Every time the lighting flashed, I could feel it surging through me and I have honestly NEVER felt so alive! For once in I can’t remember when, the thoughts of death were gone. For once, I didn’t hate myself. For once, I felt!!! I never wanted the storm to end because I felt!
How sad is it that it took a storm so I could feel? And just for a while. Once the storm blew over, it was as if I were a zombie again. Why? Why torment me with the exhilaration of feeling so alive only to snatch it all away when the storm left?
What’s the point of any of this? The feeling was just like everything and everyone…temporary. Why even bother? How am I supposed to feel knowing that I am merely temporary? And when I’m gone, who will even remember my name?
Who would even care? Perhaps the crows, buzzards, and all the other bugs, worms and beasts that feast on the flesh of the dead. But aside from that?