Letters to Ghosts of the Past

Interlude

To the one who lost herself in the hurricane,

You're a storm.
Thunder in your eyes, lighting in your stride, rain and wind in everything you do.
You're alone, scared, sad.
Around you the world is falling to pieces and you are too this time.
You try to look ahead, promise yourself not to live in the past. You'll try to wait the storm out.
You tell yourself the sun will come out eventually. Light at the end of the tunnel.
Easier said than done.
Where is the sun when the wind is ripping away every shred of happiness you've ever felt?
Where is hope when the rain is drowning you in sorrow?
Where is that light when the storm clouds are closing in on you?
You thought that light was a person. A friendship. The only true bond you've ever felt in your life. But it turned out to just be the spark of a strike of lightning. Gone as soon as it appeared, leaving behind a nasty burn, and angry sound, and an impact long after it was over.
You refuse to try again.
You see flaws in people more than you did before because how can you trust anyone ever again?
You want to. You wish you could. But you won't.
You won't because you can't be be hurt again.
You found happiness in someone and they betrayed you, they found their own light at the end of the tunnel and you were thrown back into the storm.
And interlude.
You're in the eye of the damn hurricane and you don't have anywhere to go.
What else can you do but learn to deal with it?
As the wind blows your hair, the rain blinds you, the thunder deafens you... your own tears choke you. You stay there because where else can you go?
You forget there are people who care. People who have really always been in your corner but you focused too much on what you knew to realize it.
You don't have to stay there just because it's all you know.
Look around. There is support everywhere.
You are allowed to move on. No matter how much shit they give you for it, you can walk away.
Against the forces of nature, you become one yourself. You fight back.
And the wind dies down and the rain stops just a little.
You get a taste of the sunlight. It's addictive.
You finally understand that you are not bound to the storm. You are the storm.
Your greatest demon is yourself, and your loyalty to those who don't return it.
You let go. You detach yourself from the things that make you unhappy.
The sun after the storm is not a person. It's not a state of mind, or an age, or even a place.
It's you. You are the storm, you are the sun. You decide your own fate.
And you did.
Like a warm spring day, the sun comes out and the rain dries.
The plants are growing, the flowers blooming. Little buds on the trees where the leaves will appear are showing up.
The sun is back.
You're back.
And damned if you let the storm destroy that again.
The damage has been done, but here comes the sun.