Why is it that, to me, when it rains all my emotion is multiplied. It's when I feel real joy, real pain, hatred, and love. I feel truly at peace when water falls from the sky. The snow, sleet, and hail even does that. I love going outside and feeling the cold liquid on my skin, and leaving a slick trail as far as it can. I can cry and no one would know the difference. I have a reason to scream, cry, do whatever I want because rain, water, liquid is the only thing that gives me freedom from this unfair life of mine. When it rains I have no reason to slice, to try and clear my mind. I can think, all inhabitions thrown to the heavens. The thunder, lightning, it gives me hope for things I've wanted, needed, never got, and never will have. The chills sent through my spine and the bumps on my skin give me a sign that I live, that I exsist and that I may belong somewhere besides on this planet, the continent, country, state, or city. That somewhere everything I feel could be worn on my sleeves without the feeling that everyone hates me, that they're plotting against me, and don't really want me around them. I could cry and they would know what's wrong, why the lukewarm tears stain my cheeks. They would know why I tear my skin and mutilate myself. They would know.
They might know why I like the taste of blood, the thoughts of slaughter mixed with the psychotic screams, and why I like solitude compared to anything. That black and white and red are the color of my thoughts that even with these I may be fake, no real life, no love, and that I may doubt that I could be really anything more than someone sent here to wander, and to help others. To be loved, but to not be loved all the same.
They might know why I like the taste of blood, the thoughts of slaughter mixed with the psychotic screams, and why I like solitude compared to anything. That black and white and red are the color of my thoughts that even with these I may be fake, no real life, no love, and that I may doubt that I could be really anything more than someone sent here to wander, and to help others. To be loved, but to not be loved all the same.
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