only exception

I have a theory that stormy weather sets the perfect mood for almost every occasion. For example, you can not convince me that a rumbling storm is not the perfect cure for a sleepless night. Or the perfect antagonist to the quiet brood of writer’s block. When the wind is pounding on the windows howling and begging to be let in and the trees are inviting you to dance with them to a song only they hear, all while the rain is continuously pouring down. In moments like these, it is the most fulfilling sense to be able to just lay down in your comfy warm bed and not feel a single drop of the chaos outside. To be able to just defiantly lay there and watch in wonderment at the pure life and destruction a storm may bring. The only moment when I am spiteful towards the storm is when I am missing you.

The clouds will cover the stars that selfishly hold the answers to why I feel the way I do. The wind only screams and the trees only dance and it seems astronomically unfair for this perfect storm to be unfit to fill the holes you left me with. My questions and prayers will be swept up into the night by the wind and drowned out by the rain. The storms may listen but they have no answers and with no moon or stars I am completely and utterly lost. It is nights like this when I miss you the most. It is nights like these that are the only exception.