I lay in bed, my frame shadowed against the wall as the lighting outside flashes violently. Feeling myself shake, I try and take deep breaths to stop the hot tears pouring down my face.
Fucking storms, they're horrible. The lightning catches you off guard, making you flinch as to wondering, was some tree just struck? Did it fall on a household? Or did someone, some where get caught in the storm, rushing to shelter. Then there's the thunder, it comes afterwards, booming, yelling at you. It sends harsh shivers down your spine, racking your bones and it feels it's breaking down your body.
I reach for my phone with shaky hands, desperately trying to turn on my music, to try and drown the claps of thunder out. It seems each time I look out, the rain speckled on the window glare as the light of the storm pulses.
A lot of people like to watch storms, they find them 'beautiful' or 'Calming'. But they don't take into consideration the actual effect it has. Thunderstorms are like people, they suprise you, they're different. Some cause damage, some are quieter than others- others are quite the opposite.
You can watch it from a distance, the lighting etching into the clouded sky. But miles away, you don't know what it's doing. People are huddled in their homes, desperately trying to calm their little children down, lighting candles and lanterns. People are nervous as to if their kid is over at their friends house, chatting rather than under a tree that was struck down.
I hug my knees, inching away from the windowsill, and into the cold corner where my bed is jointed to my wall. The thin sheets barely cover the lighting, and the music muffled only fractions of the thunder. Shaking and trying to hold in my sobs, I stuff my face into the blanket.
Because storms are beautiful, calming, despite the memories.
