The rain makes me anxious, always has and always will. I suppose it's the fact that everything becomes so isolated, cold, alone.
"None of this is your fault."
I have heard that more times than I'd like to admit, and I've thought about you more than I should at this point. Of course, it's not bizarre for me to focus on it if it hadn't come from your mouth I would still think about it day and night.
There's something about being rejected without hesitation that stings.
The rain agrees. It drags down the sides of the house, washing over the windows, blurring my vision. On days like these, I don't want to look outside. That world out there is one that has millions of perceptions like yours, ones that should not exist. Naturally, they exist, it balances everything out.
Why does it need to be balanced?
In some way, the rain reminds me of everything I didn't say. I wanted to open my mouth, to say what was stuck in my throat. All that came out were pleas and desperation, because how do you even begin to process such a thing? It's been such a long time, we walk past each other and snark in the dark.
This is where I don't know anything. I can see what happened, but not in the way I should. It's distant, foreign. I mourn words that hurt my existence, yet feel nothing.
Sometimes I stand in the rain, waiting.
I don't know what for, though.
Maye came by the other day, after some time. She sat with me on the steps to the house as I let the cold water seep into my skin.
"You know," she started, staring straight ahead, "You were doing so well, what happened?"
I picked at the loose threads on my red sweater, small fibers floating to rest on my knees. The rain began to fall harder as if to answer in place of me. It left me shaking, while Maye simply pulled me inside.
Sometimes I would sneak to the roof when she did that. I would hide away from facing it because running was what everyone else had done, therefore why couldn't I run as well?
FEAR, noun: an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain or a threat
The thoughts, I suppose they may never cease.
I can see them in detail, etched into my paintings, my walls, my mind.
I wish they weren't there in the first place.
YOU ARE READING
Colors Behind the Glass ✓
Poetry[COMPLETED] Lonnie has been through several life-changing events. The most impactful is the death of their abuelita and the loss of someone close to them as they came out as non-binary. They have struggled with coming to terms with these two facts...
