How come the only way you know how high you get me is to see how far I fall… *John Mayer

I’m constantly driving into the storm… windows down, John Mayer blaring, hoping to make it hope before the falling water becomes too much… hoping to make it home before the inside of my car is dripping wet.  It’s been that way for as long as I can remember.  Me against the storm.  Like it this way.  It’s comforting.  As I get closer… as the clouds get darker… as suddenly the water begins to fall it feels somehow much easier to breathe.  Everything I’ve been holding in for too long is released and tumbles towards the pavement.  Perhaps that’s why I never roll the windows up.  The water makes me feel alive. 

Maybe someday I’ll wake up and stop running head first into the pouring rain.  Maybe someday I won’t find myself so inherently masochistic anymore.  I don’t know why it’s a habit I refuse to break… but I latch myself on to one taxing, painful, emotionally depleting situation to the next.  What’s that they say about insanity?  It’s doing the same thing twice but expecting different results.  Despite how much I attempt time and time again to be a catalyst… to be a solution… to make my mark on this world, sometimes I wonder if the best I can do is just let it be.  Maybe just maybe I would do more good if only I could learn to let go.  If only I could breathe without the pouring rain.

I raced the black clouds this afternoon and watched as the sky cried.  The world fell dark, but yet I still won.  As I shut my front door the first lightning strike hit.  Safe.  And dry.  I won.  

I won’t always be that lucky. 

I should really stop running head first into the storm.

swans-glasses:

Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division?

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