Everyone has a story to tell.
A story no one has ever heard.
A story that someone is definitely willing to read.
In this book, I write short stories that I couldn't find anywhere else to put. A figment of my imagination or a part of my soul? Who co...
The dark clouds started to gather around and I closed my eyes for a moment to feel the stormy winds on my face. He looked at me and smiled. "I'm gonna miss this."
I squeezed his hand. "Then don't go."
He sighed and turned his face towards the cloudy sky. He was silent for a moment and I took my time to prepare myself for the dreadful words he was gonna tell me, again. And again.
"I have to," he told me softly and tears had started to prick my eyes again. "You knew this, you knew I had always wanted to go. This was never my home. If I don't leave now, I would betray the promise I made to myself years ago. I would stay but I will not be living and I won't deny myself the luxury of that freedom. I am too selfish to not put myself first." He stopped as the first drops of the rain started to soak the ground before us. I stretched my legs so that the dribbling water from the shade wet my toes and fingers.
"I know." I rubbed my face as the rain fell harder. "I should not ask you to stay, I can't, because I'm not selfish to ask you to be with me even when every part of me wants you to." He held my hand as I spoke. I was hurt, there was no doubt in that. "You were never the bird to be trapped in a cage, you only knew how to fly high and high." I took a deep breath. The sound of the rain splattering had gotten very loud. He shifted closer to me and I rested my head against him, feeling the warmth of his body against mine.
His fingers drew circles on the inside of my wrist. The hem of my jeans was wet now and the wind had picked up. The sprinkles of the rainwater seeped through the material of my tee-shirt.
I knew I was in love with him and I also knew he was not.
Being with him was like chasing the white puff of cloud on the sunny days. It's somehow always ahead of you. You try and force your feet to run fast but the moment you pause to take a breath, it will disappear. You start to question what was the purpose of running after all.
But the days are not always sunny and in those times, he comes to you exactly like the grey clouds. There is thunder and lightning and storm. It leaves you in awe. All you want is a taste of that something so dangerously beautiful. You will drench yourself in that incessant downpour because that's the only way to get as close to it as possible.
But why?
None of that stay forever, does it?
Then why do you let yourself get hurt over and over again for desiring something that will never stay?
I know why.
Because we are addicted to the rush, to the passion it makes us feel.
When you run, you let that chase fuel your veins, mixed with the ecstasy stronger than anything of this world can ever provide.
When you see that light almost splitting the sky apart, you feel it's power in your veins mixed with blood that makes your heart pump wildly.
And you are addicted to that drug.
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