This heavy downpour came as a sign.
I’ve decided, with the last of my tears, that my insecurities have to go. I am ruining my chances with happiness with a mind so heavily coated with cynical, suspicious thoughts. I am but a woman, however I know deep down inside that I am a simple one, and I aim to be a woman who will be happy despite the realities of Life.
That evening, I watched in horror as two parallel lines of tears dripped down onto my shirt, wetting a patch that seemed like a stain which was growing larger as I wept. Staring at the two spots as it spread out like a cancer, I could imagine the same happening in me, the disease in my brain inflicting my other organs, as smooth as the blood flows.
The wind can be a cruel thing. Flirtatiously, they flit under your skirts or tickle the back of your neck, but sometimes, they rustle up the trampled leaves that have laid forgotten on the ground and sweep with them memories that should have been buried long ago. Dredging up the past, like waking the dead.
When his words don’t soothe me, they start to grow defensive; vicious, this encumbrance of words that circle around my heart like vultures, waiting for it to expire, to breathe its last, to stop fighting. His past, my past. Like papercut, drawing barely a sliver of blood, but hurting so much you tear involuntarily.
I seek clarity, but at this moment, a strong mind will do. And when the wind blows again I will trample them like dead leaves, until they are imprinted in the soil and not my mind, so that they will decompose back to the earth instead of having it fester in my body.
And with this rain which will trickle into the drain to be gone forever, I shall never cry again for the devil in my mind. I will embrace the light and live for today and tomorrow, not for the days gone by.
I will win this rage.