It is raining. For the first time in ages, it is raining. The sky is gray, the rain is gray, everything is gray. I like everything that is gray -- my soul is gray. The smell of the rain, the fresh air, the water falling from the sky, the wind blowing, taking my thoughts far, far away, where no one can take them.. Dogs barking, rain pouring, hitting the ground and the metal roofs. I hear the church's bells. Eight o'clock. Friday morning.
The candles are lit. Magnolia and cinnamon candles, spreading their scent. They are the only light source, except for the daylight, shyly hiding behind my curtains.. being held there for so long. I'm sitting here, typing, enjoying the grandiosity of the candles, the feeling of safety the curtains give me, the dark room. The dark, wet weather. I could go outside and dance in the rain, wet my socks, wet my hair. I could do all those.
It is Friday morning. I am supposed to be at school. Instead, I am at home (no -- I'm not skipping school. I have reasons for being at home), surrounded by candles and rain, waiting for nine laxatives to kick me down sometime soon, waiting for the horror, waiting for the dark.
I open the window. For the first time in ages, I can breathe.