Sometimes, late at night, I wish that it would rain. Pouring, pounding from the sky, hissing onto my roof with heart-stopping crashes and flashes that terrorize small creatures. I wish that I could run outside, hair flowing behind me, and run out into the rain, into the trees, and just run, bare feet squishing in the mud as I let loose all of my emotions. I want to run and be free for one solitary moment, where I lose myself and everything inside of me.
To be free of myself is to be one with myself.
And I know... that I can't run outside into the rain. That it's 9� and it snows, not rains. That if I ran barefoot, I'd become sicker than I already am, and drugs can only take you so far before you must submit to the dark lover. I know all of this in my mind... that we have no trees around here that I can run under, the rain falling off the slick canopy onto my pale skin. Slowy trickling down my spine, causing a cold that sends thrills into my mind, a cold that's far from the cold I feel inside.
And I would feel once more... and I would be free.