My Life in Prose

The cloud man

There is an entity. A man who is always with me. He's made up of dark, ominous clouds that smother me. They block out all the light. They rain and freeze my bones.

The cloud man has no face, but I can feel his constant smirk. Any bit of light or warmth that tries to come to me, he makes his best effort to get rid of it. He's very strong and very large... But only I can see him.

Staying in the dark, in the cold, puts a toll on you. It takes away the color. It takes away the warmth. I've grown accustomed to the world lacking these.

My medicine helps to make the cloud man less dark. Sometimes light comes in. It doesn't always rain. He's still there, but he's not as frightening.

But my sun, he shines through. When he's strong, I can see. I can feel. He breaks through the clouds. That is why I always want to be by my sun. He is the only one who is able to make my world have color, to have warmth.

I've let others shine thier light through too, but the cloud man works against me. He distorts thier light. He changes thier warmth. It's hard to let anyone else through.