Metanoia

prologue.

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prologue.

I stood silently glancing outside of the glass doors. The constant taps and dribbles from the rain drilled itself into my head. Large gloomy clouds loom across the sky hindering all traces of sunlight. It was no secret a storm was brewing. But just like the storm brewing outside, so was the one inside my mind.

Supposedly after every storm comes a rainbow. But how can the rainbow come when the storm never ends?

My hands found its way to the doorhandle and I step outside. Drops of water fall. Some landed in my hair and some ran along my lifeless pale cheeks.

There was something calming about rain. There was something about it that just lets yourself to get carried away by the serenity and silence. In a way, the rain represented life, the drops washing and carrying away all the dirt and demons and for a while everything seems all okay. But if only it is that simple. The wind will soon carry everything back, and that's when you realise there's no such thing as 'fresh starts'. Your demons and pains will follow you. All the way to the grave. Time could never fully cure you.

It seemed to have been a long time since I was that carefree. Longer than I would've liked it to be. Often I wonder what it would've been like if I had done things differently. Perhaps it would've been better if I had gone with them.

Maybe this wasn't too late?

My clothes were soaking by now but I didn't have a care. I was about to do what I had never dared to do. Perhaps this will I was going to get my relief this way.

The sharp blade in my clutch suddenly felt heavy and I forced my hands to move.

Slash. Slash. Slash.

The pain was excruciating and I could see my thighs becoming bloody. I continued.

Finally, I began having troubles keeping my eyes open and the last thing that I remembered was the faint lift on the corners of my lips before I passed out.