It’s all about whether the lightning bolt is a sign of life, or death.
It’s all about whether you care that anybody’s listening, or watching, or reading.
It’s all about your attitude to a storm.
Incapable of withstanding the pressure of my own thoughts, I thud them out with music, but no beat is comfortable. Fall Out Boy too smart, Coldplay too at ease. In the distance I hear crickets calling out to each other, and I decide to listen to the outside world.
I jump as the world turns white for a second and then the thunder rolls. My roof echoes the rain, it sounds like my head is about to be drenched. The gutters overflow. The drain gurgles; the toilet inside grumbles. God, please let this house stand. Flashes, flashes in the windows, reflected on the pools of water on the street, the storm is gaining force, then appeasing itself, then surling upwards, richocheting hail against our windows, I close my eyes.
I open them, and the rain has subsided. I stare out, unconvinced my house will not flood. But. I know this town. This is going to end. I may have a date with a plumber tomorrow to fix the damage, but the rain will end.
It’s all about your attitude.
God, please let these emo posts end.