Autumn Thunderstorm
He came almost like a clap of thunder. Not quite, but as surprising later after. He seeped through the delayed rain. He was late. He wasn’t special at first, but as time goes by, his presence resonates, and little did I know, he lit up my atmosphere, gently, minute by minute. I didn’t bat an eye, but it was as if he whispered, “I’m here, take a look?”
I stared at his back as he walked through the door that first time I met him. That back of his convinced me that there is something about him that I needed to know. He’s like a jigsaw puzzle I’ve never put together before. This couldn’t be love, then what is it? The second time we met I gathered up the courage to talk to him. He wasn’t thunder, he was a drizzle. Shyly returned my gaze. I felt warmth in my chest. My questions weren’t answered, instead, they all added up. He’s more than just mystery. I realized bit by bit, I didn’t want to practice research on him, I wanted to get to know him. Words and phrases and sentences float as hours went by. We exchanged smiles and occasionally we stole glances from afar. The second time I stared at his back as he walked through the door, I knew I was in love.
He was ecstasy. Every inch of me craved for him. Everywhere I go, I imagine him there. All I wanted was to look at his eyes and fall deeper. It was almost as if I needed to look at his eyes to understand how I feel, even though I knew I could never look at him dead in the eyes. We weren’t apart for long. I got to see him several times. Each time we interact, I got more deprived. He grew flowers inside of me. When our eyes meet, I felt a soft vibration in my chest and my head. He was everything I ever asked for. He lit up the room, and he wasn’t a shelter on rainy days, he was the translucent umbrella, asking you to dance in the rain.
I knew for sure, he was all I wanted. I’ve waited long enough for him, and I deserved him all for myself. He was the time I would invest in, he was the savings I would spend on, he was the cheesecake on a gym day. I was certain about me, and I was certain about his eyes. I was certain everything feels a lot better when we look at each other. I wrote pages by pages about him. He was my infatuation, the fire in my very own heart. He was a beauty at every angle. Not one flaw. I cried at his silence and laughed at his worst jokes. I stared at his lonely hand way too long. His voice was music, my favorite one. He was the madness I swallow every night. I didn’t care about the world, he was a big chunk my world.
But he didn’t love me. It wasn’t me that he wanted. He never wanted anything. The wondrous eyes of his were blind. His warm heart, the only thing I ever wanted, never beat the way I did. His shy glances were a personality. I was wrong. I was wrong about forever. I was wrong about his tosses and turns. I let him have a huge part of me, and he didn’t even realize when he threw it to the gutter. He never let me in. He didn’t know anything about me, and I let my ignorance became bliss. I wasn’t the pearl in the shell, I was just someone else. He never wanted me, while I never wanted anything if it’s not him.
I crouched down, gathering all the pieces I had left. He found someone in a blink of an eye. She was the moon, she was serenity, she was grace, she was everything I’m not. My tears were endless, sitting alone in my dark bedroom felt like torture. Is this a heart attack? I asked myself every night. Am I going to die? Are my organs failing me now? Even breathing felt painful. I was nothing, I was an empty void, I was the lonely last pill. The huntress started to visit me, asking, what is it that she has that you don’t? Maybe everything. She has everything that I don’t, everything that he needed. I fell only deeper before I get to open my curtains and see what’s outside.
The sun still rises. I’m not dead. It wasn’t a heart attack. The wires inside me are still connected. The clouds are smiling. The grass is greener than ever. I love me, I want me to survive everything. The warmth of the sun rays illuminates my empty canvas. Took me months to realize, he was the phoenix of my land of imagination. He was the ideal of what my soul wants to express. I loved him like I love the drawing that got me a win in 3rd grade. I loved him like I love the playlist I made after I discover a bunch of good artists. I loved him like I love the beauty of 4 am sunrise. I loved how I drew him. I loved him as if he’s ivory, made of porcelain. I didn’t love him for him, I loved the melodrama of him, I loved the fantasy that I created of him bit by bit every encounter. He was my muse. He was the fancy quill that keeps my pages going. He gave breath to my silly dreams. He’s still the translucent umbrella, for I can look up to the sky even when it pours. I loved him in my brain.
After all, just like every thunderstorm, they fade. And autumn changes, never forever.
