With the Weather

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As the rain begins to pour, I can feel the pressure cascading down to the soaking ground, taking my sense of balance with it. My arteries fail at their only task yet again, and I begin to fall into myself and onto the floor. He catches me, laughing like the asshole he always has been. But the smile is sweet so I smile back to stop the tears that would be undetectable in the rain. Pain pulses from every ounce of blood that my body is currently lacking, but there is enough to smile, so I do. I look up as I bite my lip, if I was sure God had intervened on this lack of judgment about the capabilities of my arteries, I would currently be cursing him, but I’m not sure, and I like to stay on God’s good side or next time He’ll bypass the arteries and just make me brain dead. This man, he is leading me somewhere, but to be honest, I am not nearly up to my usual “mental capacity” as the thunder booms behind my numb mind. I should be worried, some man leading me to various places with a girl who is basically unable to stand on her own, it sounds suspicious, like the beginning of a Bones episode. But I trust him for some unknown reason, besides; I’m feeling too many emotions as the moment to be thinking this all through. Aggravated is an understatement, I was so angry at the pain and the sadness and the lack of blood that I was numb, numb to it all as he carries me into the shelter away from the storm. At this point, I am literally being carried, but to be honest, I hadn’t noticed until now. The storm prolongs as he sits me down on the ground, making sure I was still coherent, yet somehow understanding my lack of words. The tears stream down my face as I fight dejectedly to stop them. He looks at me and gives me that winning smile. The one that would make me forget the times he had left me alone to cry myself to sleep, the nights where I needed to talk and whatever he was playing was more important. It was the smile that made me smile back even when I wanted to scream. It was the look that had saved my life, my mind, me. It made me feel empowered, so, I attempt to stand up, denying assistance. This is my life, I fight battles I can’t win, and expect him to help me stand on my own two feet when I fall. I don’t need him to help me! I will stand alone, by myself, I don’t need his arms or comforting smile. As I stand, I black out, falling to the floor and the last thing I see before the coma takes over is his concerned face and dark brown eyes, the same color of the black that swallows me up for the next five hours.





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