Letter to the Storm


The Flight

Dear Storm

Since we parted I haven’t written a single word to you. Forgive me, it wasn’t intentional. I tried so many times but something held me back. An amalgamation of fear and confusion I presume. The confusion of what to write and the fear of doing it anyway. So here we are. I cannot say I missed you for it is considered something of a sin to write a letter of love to you, let alone proclaim the fact that I miss you as well. But I cannot deny the truth anymore. Since you left I feel broken in a place I cannot figure, hence cannot fix either. If I could point it out I would replace it, fill it in with something new, or find a remedy of some sort. But I cannot do any of those things because I cannot even find where all the hurt is. It runs through my veins like an ocean of aches, I do not even know where it originated from. All I know is that it’s there and it’s dissolving me, taking me away bit by bit and nobody but myself can see it. I have tried hard trying to find something to grab on to, anything that looks familiar but I have failed. You were a storm, you were chaos and you were destruction. But you were also all I knew. You were what made sense. You gave me purpose and you gave me something to fight. You gave me a struggle that made me feel alive. I knew every morning as I woke up that I had to make my way through a tornado. I knew it could kill me, and yet each night as I survived I could not help but feel a sense of achievement. Something that made me proud of myself, the thrill of it all. I try so hard but I cannot feel much now. I miss you old friend, and I am no more afraid to shout it to the world. I miss you each time a vein throbs with the ache of your loss, each time I go to bed feeling even if I failed today I’ll find the purpose tomorrow instead, each time I am disappointed and cannot find a reason to go on. I miss you at all these times I mentioned and even the ones I did not. The other day I was sailing with a friend when the weather turned a little sinister. He turned to me and anxiously said ‘Is this it? Are we stuck in a storm now?’ I heard your name after so long and even in such a circumstance I lost all senses for a while. And then I pulled myself together and this is all that I could manage to say, ‘No my dear, we just made it out of the storm. But now we say its name for we miss the storm because that was all we knew. We’re stuck in something much worse. We’re stuck in a paradox.’


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