I’m listening to the storm raging outside. The wind is whipping around the buildings, screaming and wailing. The rain is banging on the rooftops and pattering on the pavement.
I’m glad that I’m warm and tucked up in my bed. I’m even more glad that I decided not to go out to party tonight.
It’s a shame though, that I’m fighting my own storm, in my head. I’ve got to do something tomorrow that I’m really not looking forward to. The wind is going to push me off that cliff that I’ve been standing on the edge of for so long. I really don’t want to go. I’m tempted to wake up in the morning and cancel, to get out of it. To avoid it.
There’s that little hope though, the little fire inside me that burns bright, even in the rain. There’s the hope that my best friend will be waiting at the bottom of the cliff, to catch me. I’ve done everything I can this week to not contact her, and I don’t want to break that tomorrow. I’d like her to contact me. I’d like her to check that I’m okay. I’d like her to catch me, hold me, and stop me from hitting the rocks with a thud.
I can hope, but there are no gaurentees. Otherwise, I guess that I’ll have to fight alone. And I think that’s probably a little too much for me right now.
So I’ll wait for that text, and I’ll try my best to just keep on breathing. In. Out. In. Out.