With the Rain

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Photo Credit: http://casheefoo.deviantart.com/art/Winter-Shot-107046697

With the Rain

There’s something about the rain that brings out the nostalgic side of me.

When the sky is crying, I begin to relive old memories, past hurts, all the things that have brought tears to my eyes. I know I’ve made it past them, and the sky will too. Eventually, the tears stop falling, and everything falls back into place.

But for the time-being, I’m remembering you.

I remember the time you needed a ride to a friend’s house, and before you got out of my car, you kissed the tips of your fingers and touched my cheek.

“Thank you,” you said.

It was such a tender gesture, the best kind if you ask me. My boyfriend likes to kiss the tips of my fingers at random moments, and I flush with chills every time. I tend to surround myself with people who are loud, expressive, and abrasive, the opposite of myself. So when I meet someone who gives me moments of tenderness — however briefly — I remember.

But perhaps my memory of you is not an accurate representation. I always thought you were the brighter half of me, optimistic yet firmly grounded in reality, rational where I was over-emotional, and much less judgmental. I put you on a pedestal, and turned to you through every deepest crisis as if you were some kind of savior.

And that’s not you.

You’re not as perfect as my memory likes to imagine. You’re not as sweet, caring, and tender. I turned to you because you shut down my feelings, not wanting to hear them, and I liked that because it was something I understood. I’m used to people dismissing my feelings, wanting nothing more than to see them cease to exist. You fit into that category of people and therefore you fit into my life.

Until you didn’t anymore.

I’ll never know the exact reason we stopped existing in each other’s lives. But I do remember when I finally decided my feelings mattered, and if they didn’t matter to you, there was no reason for us to hold on to this thing we called a friendship.

So we didn’t.

I’m sure there was much more to it than that, but that’s how it ended for me. 

Sometimes, I still reach out to you when times get hard because my feelings are often overwhelming and you shut them down the best. But we’re strangers now. You don’t know my life anymore, and I definitely don’t know yours. I don’t think I ever really did.

So now you’re just a memory I think of when the sky is crying. Because I cried a lot with you.


But not anymore.

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